Guardians of the Gate
by The Odd Little Turtle
Summary: How Joker transformed from the Alliance's best helmsman into a Cerberus terrorist. Politics, assassinations, explosions, and weird science might have something to do with it.  Multiple POVs.
1. Awakening

**Guardians of the Gate**

by The Odd Little Turtle Named Froggie

* * *

**Quick notes:** This was inspired by the video of Anderson from LotSB (so there's a mild spoiler for LotSB, well, okay maybe a whole lot more than that), but other than that I'm just making up shit-hopefully. Shepard's female in this (I think I officially lack the capacity to write a male—sorry), but unnamed, not described and not Calleigh from Redundant. Insert your own Shepard.

Mass Effect is not mine. Not that anyone didn't know that already. Just covering my ass. Broke writer is broke.

This really isn't intended to be a romance, but I'll probably end up going there anyway. Joker and Ashley are just way too much fun to write as a pairing.

**Update:** SORRY! I'm a writer, not a counter. The dates have changed so that Shepard will not wake up in 2186. :B

* * *

_**Awakening**_

**

* * *

****Commandant's Chambers, Hades Station, [Data Corrupted]  
****September 19, 2183**

* * *

"Shepard is currently listed MIA," the holo of Miranda Lawson said, and the Illusive Man ground his cigarette out in frustration.

Humanity's best lost. Still, he could use this to his advantage. He sipped his gin and tonic.

"Find her body," he ordered as he interfaced with his computer bringing up the records he needed. "Lazarus is a go."

"Understood, sir," she disappeared at the touch of a button and the Illusive Man connected to another operative.

"Operative Boaz," he greeted, when one of the Alliance's best surgeons appeared before him. "I have a mission for you."

* * *

**Boötis Medical Center, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System**

**November 23, 2183**

* * *

_Okay. Ow._

Joker blinked rapidly, trying to get his bearings. He ached all over, but it was a dull pain, and it felt like he wasn't actually _in _his body to feel anything. His head hurt more than the rest of him. The bright white lights overhead and the chirping of, of _something_, weren't making things any easier. His head was swimming in a haze of pain and grief and –

_Shepard._

He swallowed as events caught up to him. He'd failed. For the first time in his life, he had failed.

_The Normandy._

His _baby_. Joker's misery switched quickly to cold irritation. He had had everything under control. All Shepard had to do was get off the damn ship, save herself, and let him do his job and save his ship or die trying. It was his fucking _job_. He shook his head to clear the last images of his valiant commander being vaporized by some kind of ray of light. Joker could still feel the heat on his skin from such close proximity to the particle beam.

And his ship. Losing the Normandy after everything they had gone through with Saren and Sovereign... _What about the Reapers? What are we gonna do without Shepard?_ He let out of huff of air and closed his eyes again. Because he stayed on the bridge, refusing to go, Shepard hadn't been able to make it to the pod in time. Joker felt sick, overwhelmed with raw despair of his failure.

"Hey."

Instinctively, Joker jolted his head towards the feminine voice, heart in his throat, his vision blurring momentarily. At first he thought maybe the Commander was there and everything was fine, but he was wrong. Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams stood there—both of her—a worried look on her—their—face. Slowly the blurry, double vision ebbed, and Joker could see straight again. She was a welcome sight—not as welcome as Shepard would have been, but still. It replaced the image of the bridge crew's burning corpses. At least someone else made it out alive.

The Chief stood in the doorway of what Joker now realized was his hospital room. The annoying bright light played havoc with his retinas, and he squeezed his eyes shut a third time. The incessant chirping in his ear was the AutoArt—the Automated Articulated Surgical System—the medical unit attached to his bed as he lay there prone, and it's monitoring equipment. The chirping increased as Joker's heart rate did as his mind reeled. His ship was gone. His commanding officer was gone. The Brass had probably already decided his fate.

Ash was there though. That counted for something, right? He raised his eyes to find her watching him intently as though he might slip back into another long period of sleep. How long had he been out?

Worry painted Ashley's heart-shaped face, a small frown creasing her forehead, her generous lips tight and grim. He'd never seen her out of uniform—it was against Regs while on Tour of Duty, even during Liberty—and her blue-black hair wasn't in a bun on the back of her head. Half of it was up, the other half was down around her shoulders, loose tendrils framed her face. Joker found he liked the look—he'd never admit it to the Chief though. None of her damn business.

The civvies threw him though. He didn't know what bothered him more—the dark-blue, off-the-shoulders blouse that flowed around her curves and defined her throat and soft shoulders or darker cargo pants that hugged her hips and thighs. Why was she not dressed for duty? Did she have to look so, so damn _feminine_? Irritation increased his heart rate more. Ashley Williams looked like a civilian woman instead of the marine he had grown to like aboard the Normandy. Where was his Chief? She didn't look like she could fight her way out anything. It set his nerves on edge.

"Hey, Doll," he said, clamping down on his irritation and nervousness enough to talk. It came out a cracked whisper, his throat paper-dry from disuse. "How long have I been out?"

Ashley stepped closer to Joker's side. "A while." It didn't hurt so much to look at him now. The first time they had let her visit a few weeks ago, his body had still been a mess. Since then, the Alliance hospital had regrown the skin on his face, arms and neck that had been burned by exposure to radiation and the intense particle beam that had destroyed the Normandy. The grafting had been a success, though it was certainly strange to see Joker without much of a beard and hair. The surgery to his jaw and head had required shaving the helmsman bald.

"You look weird," he blurted, and she frowned, tilting her head to look down at her attire, suddenly feeling self-conscious. _I look weird?_ Ashley thought with irritation. _Look who's talking, buddy._

"It's comfortable," she managed, careful not to let on that his appraisal made her uneasy. "I'm on leave for the next six weeks until my next assignment." She eyed him with a critical squint. "Besides, I'm not the one who's had every bone in his body broken and skin grafts from vacuum exposure."

"Oh, is that why everything hurts?" His tone was sarcastic, but came out weakly, and Ashley felt a pang of guilt for needling him.

She crossed the room and grabbed a chair, bringing it closer to his bedside. "Probably. I have no idea what kind of pain meds they've got you on. The nurse said something about you needing another dose soon. I wanted to see if you were awake yet. You... weren't in the best of shape the last time I was here."

He studied her a moment before cracking a grin, a devilish look coming into his eyes. "So, you come here often?"

She regarded him with a speculative gaze as she sat in the chair, a smile forming on her lips. "In your dreams, Lieutenant."

If he could have shrugged he would have. "I don't know. I can't remember my dreams at the moment, Doll. Pretty sure you and a few other cute chicks are in them though." He frowned. "How did I get here anyway? And for that matter, where is here?"

"Boötis Medical Center on Arcturus Station,"she told him, choosing to ignore the _few other cute chicks_ comment. Ashley knew Joker well enough to know when he was trying to get a rise out of her. "They transferred you here from the Sirona Garrison Medical Center after you had an allergic reaction to some med while they were mending your bones back together. Said the trauma center here was better equipped for your," she hesitated briefly, "'special needs.'"

Joker let out a long, audible breath, looking haggard as he lay there connected as he was to the AutoArt. "Someone didn't read my medical record."

"I have no idea," Ashley told him with a shrug. "I only found out through your brother."

An almost hopeful glint came to Joker's green eyes. "Is Jay here?" And she felt guilty for having to tell him no as she shook her head.

"Called to duty a few days ago," she explained. "He tried to stay as long as he could."

"Where's he been assigned?"

"Not sure," she told him. "He wouldn't say. Jay said he would call to check in when he could."

Joker nodded, but said nothing a moment. The question he'd been dreading to ask worked its way out of his mouth. "Did Shepard make it out? There was an explosion before she could get into the pod with me."

Ashley hesitated, a lump forming in her throat. "She... The Alliance hasn't found her yet." Joker looked away, his Adam's apple working as he swallowed. "We—Look, Joker, I'm under orders not to say anything. The press hasn't released anything about the attack. It's being kept under wraps. Jay doesn't know that the Normandy was destroyed or anyone was killed. Just that there was an accident."

"How many-"

"Twenty crew members died."

Joker swore under his breath, remembering the strange ship on his screens. The thing had been as big as Sovereign. As soon as he realized the size and saw that the vessel appeared to be powering up, he had begun evasive maneuvers. Fat lot of good that did the twenty people who lost their lives because he'd been too slow.

"Before I could bring up the bridge's kinetic barrier, Pressly and Hendricks got sucked into space," Joker admitted, his throat aching in defeat.

Ashley could only nod. Before she could say anything else, the nurse entered. He was a middle-aged man with tightly cropped black hair and dark eyes. Lines ringed his eyes as he smiled warmly.

"Well, well," the man said jovially and Joker immediately took a disliking to him. This guy was way too cheery. "Glad you're finally awake. I'm Adrien. You've been out for some time. I'm just going to ask you a few routine questions, give you a dose of cipoxidin and dihydromorphinone, and be on my way."

"Have I been here long?" Joker asked.

"Long enough for the muscles in your legs to have atrophied a bit," Adrien said, and he held up a hand to Joker's worried look. "Nothing that can't be undone by physical therapy and mods that have already been added to combat the atrophy. It's November. You've been here since September in coma. You were at the Sirona Garrison Medical for about a week before they decided that your Vrolik's Syndrome was more than they could handle." He added two injections into Joker's IV and mashed the bag to mix it. The clear fluid turned yellow, and Joker made a face.

"Oh, good," he quipped. "I just love getting pissed on."

Adrien smiled. "Well, you're going to be fun," he said. Joker didn't know what to say to that so he waited for the nurse to continue. "According to the records, your pod was recovered on a moon in the Terminus systems. It crashed there. Other pods were found in-system, but yours was the only one that had crashed. Apparently the explosion of your ship propelled it."

"Newton is one deadly son of a bitch," Ashley said from her chair recalling what every Alliance soldier at boot is taught about space.

Joker stirred uncomfortably at the thought of being unconscious for so long. "So ask your questions already."

* * *

**Systems Alliance Headquarters—Office of the Fifth Fleet Commandant, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System**

**November 23, 2183****

* * *

**Admiral Steven Hackett looked up from the datapad, glancing with cold eyes at the clock on his desk, a frown forming on his thin lips. Moreau was up and Williams' granddaughter was with him. Well, at least they were in the same room together. It would make things easier.

The information he had received from Captain—Councilman Anderson was unsettling, but couldn't be helped. If Cerberus was involved—he let the thought ride. He would deal with that later. The Admiral had given Anderson a nugget for the terrorists to play with. Now it was time to deal with Joker and the Gunnery Chief.

He let out a breath and stood, straightening his tunic.

"Hold my calls, Joe," he told his VI and walked out of his office taking the datapad with him.

"Yes, Admiral," the disembodied voice of the VI responded.

* * *

_Comments and feedback are welcomed and desired._

_dihydromorphinone: generic name for Dilaudid - Let's play pretend dihydromorphione is still used in the future._


	2. Need to Know

**Quick Notes:** 1) Because I apparently lack the ability to count, the dates have been changed back to 2183 (otherwise, I'd have Shepard waking up in 2186). 2) I realize that someone as important as Admiral Hackett probably wouldn't give two shits in the wind about Ash or Joker (well, maybe Joker); however, I humbly ask that you stretch your disbelief a bit for this chapter.

* * *

_**Need to Know**_

* * *

**Boötis Medical Center, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System  
****November 23, 2183**

* * *

Ashley had only met Admiral Hackett once and that was when she was ordered to keep quiet about the Normandy going down. Admiral Hackett was a big, solid man-imposing was the only word she could think to use for him. In his youth, he had been a jar head and his salt and pepper hair was cut like any Alliance Marine right out of bootcamp. Ash had once had that style. Hackett had pale blue eyes that cut through her. His uniform wasn't laden with medals, the Brass only wore the brass at formal ceremonies, but those pips on his sleeves and collar made her stand at attention the moment he walked through Joker's hospital room door.

She saluted when she saw him, immediately feeling silly for saluting in civvies. _Idiot! You don't salute when you're off duty!_ Her shoulders felt too exposed in the top she was wearing and her hair! _God. How embarrassing._ But she saluted anyway—an ingrained acknowledgement to the Uniform.

Then she had to pick her jaw up off the floor.

_Operations Chief?_

"I, Sir?" She felt her face heat up at Hackett's raised eyebrow. Standing in the same room with the Commandant of Fifth Fleet made her nervous enough already—_but, my God! Operations Chief!_

"I said, I believe congratulations are in order, Williams," he repeated, then almost as an after thought he added, "once the promotion goes through all the proper channels anyway."

A smile trembled over her lips no matter how hard it was to keep it from forming. "Th-thank you, sir!" She affirmed her gratitude, refraining from reaching out and enveloping the most powerful man—under the Parliament, Minister of Defense, and President Huerta—on the station in a big bear hug.

_Dad would be so proud!_

Admiral Hackett let her compose herself before stating, "With your new rank comes new responsibility. I'm afraid your leave has been cut short." She blinked, her smile wavering, but he continued on, unperturbed. "Since Lieutenant Moreau is awake, your assignment starts now."

A small frown of confusion formed on Ashley's lips. "Sir?" She looked from the Admiral to Joker, who had passed out again just after the nurse had shot him full of drugs and left, back to the Admiral again. "I don't understand, sir."

With the tip of his head, Hackett motioned Ashley to walk with him. She didn't hesitate and a sentry immediately entered as soon as they cleared the room. They walked past the nurses' station where Adrien was hunched over a terminal, inputting patient information from his last round, the blue light of the aero-gel display reflected in his dark eyes. Several nurses—or nurses' aides—made their rounds, an orderly pushed a gurney into a room, and a doctor reviewed a medical chart at another terminal.

"We have reason to believe that Lieutenant Moreau has knowledge of the Normandy's attackers," Admiral Hackett said when they'd reached the elevator and doors slid closed behind them. "He's the only bridge crew member to make it out alive."

Ashley nodded, a tightness forming in her throat as she thought of the crew. She'd served with the Normandy crew for almost ten months trying to stop Saren, and the losses weighed heavily on her heart just as the loss of her unit did.

The Admiral continued on, "He's the only one who could have gotten a good look at the sensors. He's also the only one who may know the whereabouts of the Normandy wreckage."

Tilting her head, she asked, "But, sir, what does that have to do with me?"

"I'm assigning Lieutenant Moreau's safety to you, Chief," the Admiral told her.

She stared, wordlessly. _You have got to be joking._ "Why me?" slipped out before she could reign in her tongue. _Way to go, Ash. Newly promoted and newly stupid._

His steely eyes, sharp and assessing, bore into her and she felt like clawing her way out of the elevator—even if the music _was_ pleasant and soothing.

"This information is strictly Need to Know, Operations Chief Williams," he said, emphasizing her new rank. He paused, gauging her. She waited, feeling like a damn bug under his scrutiny. "We have reason to believe you've both been selected as possible targets for Cerberus."

"Cerberus?" Ashley asked. "Evil experiments Cerberus? Killers of Rear Admiral Kahoku Cerberus?" He gave an almost unperceivable nod. She mulled it over in her head. "What about the rest of the crew? Are they in danger too?"

"You are currently the highest ranking NCO and Joker is currently the highest ranking officer left of the crew."

Ashley swallowed, ice spreading through her. My God. "What about Chief Adams? I thought—"

Hackett shook his head and waved the datapad he had brought with him. "Need to Know, Williams."

"But—"

The Admiral's gaze became icy, his lips a forming a thin line of barely controlled anger. Ashley nodded and looked away.

"'Need to Know'," she repeated.

* * *

**Mars Naval Medical Center, Lowell City, Mars, Sol System  
****November 28, 2183**

* * *

The pleasant, disembodied voice of Vivienne, Dr. Chakwas VI assistant, pulled Dr. Chakwas from her reverie. "Dr. Chakwas, you have a visitor."

About bloody time, the doctor thought still disgusted by the fact that she was stationed on Mars of all places.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Dr. Piotr Boaz," Vivienne told her, and Chakwas felt her mouth go dry. What in God's name was the Alliance's most respected surgeon doing away from his post at Arcturus Station?

Composing herself, Chakwas stood from her chair and straightened her uniform and ran a hand nervously through her cropped graying hair.

"Show him in, Vivienne," she ordered once she felt she was presentable enough.

The VI complied and Chakwas office door slid open to reveal Dr. Piotr Boaz, a tall, dark-skinned man. He had an imposing presence, not one she'd expected from the vids she'd studied of his surgeries and lectures. The most striking thing she noticed about him as he made his way to her desk and shook her hand in greeting was his eyes. One was blue and the other one was brown.

"I'm told you're an expert on _osteo imperfecta_," he said as Chakwas studied his eyes.

She blinked, thoughts racing to Jeff, whom she knew to be in a coma at Boötis Medical Center on Arcturus Station. Her stomach tied itself into knots as she looked at Dr. Boaz.

"This is about Jeff Moreau," she stated. "Isn't it." It wasn't a question.

Boaz nodded, took a seat when she did. What he had to say benumbed her, and she sat in rapt attention.

* * *

**Commandant's Chambers, Hades Station, [Data Corrupted]  
****November 29, 2183**

* * *

"Shepard's body has been recovered," Operative Lawson's VI-generated image announced. A smile of approval spread across the Illusive Man's face and he took a puff of his cigarette.

"Excellent," he said and exhaled the smoke. It ringed his head hauntingly. "Proceed as planned."

Miranda nodded. "Yes sir. I have word that Lieutenant Moreau is awake. Shall I send in—?"

The Illusive Man cut her off. "No. I want you to focus on Lazarus. Shepard is your priority. I'll deal with Joker. I hear he's fond of red heads."

They shared a smile then the Illusive Man cut the feed.


	3. Sheep and Wolves

_Technobabble, aweigh!_

_Somewhere, somehow, some way, the Word of God will completely destroy my head!canon of Kelly Chambers. D: Until then, enjoy!_

* * *

_**Sheep and Wolves**_

**

* * *

****Crew Quarters, Hades Station, [Data Corrupted]  
****November 29, 2183**

**

* * *

**Operative Kelly Chambers smiled at herself in the mirror, teeth white and even, pleased with her new look. A week ago, she had been a mousy brunette. Today, she was vivacious red head. Giggling, she shook her new mane watching it ebb and flow like a curtain of reddish-orange-tinted water. She smoothed it down, pleased that the hair dye had managed to work on her dark hair. Her hair would grow red naturally in a few months once the genetic modification came into full effect.

She coughed suddenly as she thought of the virus used as the vector to change her genetic sequence. The phlegm choked her and she grabbed a tissue, her chest burning as she coughed. The doctors had assured her there would be no permanent damage to her sinuses or her esophagus, however the a genetically modified influenza strain was the only virus they could use. The symptoms would be problematic for the first few weeks, but then she could be put onto antibiotics.

Kelly really liked her freckles. Exposure to a few suns had darkened them a bit, making them more pronounced, and she loved them all the more. She felt like a real red head now!

Kelly's once-olive skin tone had been modified in a similar way last year, which is why her body had built up antibodies to the first vector, and they had to go with a more dangerous strain. It was worth it though. The Illusive Man was right. Sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. If she had to endure a little cough, then so be it.

She batted her eyelashes playfully. The injections to permanently change the mossy brown color of her pupils to leaf green had worked perfectly with no lasting damage to her 20/20 eyesight. Sure it had been painful for the first forty-eight hours, but it was a for a good cause.

Her heart swelled with pride. The Illusive Man had singled her out and chose her for this mission. _Me! To think, I only went to work for Cord-Hislop to pay for my psychology tuition! _And the Illusive Man was such a wonderful man to work for. So handsome.

The only part that she didn't like about this assignment was cutting her new red hair. The woman whom she now resembled had short bobbed hair. Kelly's lips turned down with a sigh and she turned her attention to the holo of the woman. _What woman these days doesn't wear make up?_ She shook her head. Well, she wasn't supposed to be an exact match, now was she? she asked herself as she began to apply eyeshadow. She wouldn't be caught dead without putting her face on.

The mission wasn't to impersonate.

"Gain his trust," the Illusive Man had told her. It was a very astute plan.

Cerberus needed Lieutenant Moreau at his best, and that could only be done through trust. She'd gone over his psych records. He was going to be a challenge, but she would make Cerberus proud, would make the Illusive Man proud. She would not fail.

* * *

**Boötis Medical Center, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System  
****December 5, 2183**

**

* * *

**_Clatter._

"Ah, damn it."

Ashley looked up from the latest celebrity gossip on her data pad. Joker, ever scowling, had knocked over his juice on the hover tray and dropped his spork on the floor.

"Problems?" Ash inquired. It her earned her a glowering stare of icy green in reply.

Most of Joker's body was still encased in a thin cast of hardened medi-gel, severely limiting his mobility. He could move his neck, his fingers and his elbows. At each break or fracture, the surgeons had implanted state-of-the-art cybernetics to administer doses of a specific cocktail of drugs and medi-gel formulated for bone mending. After the bones healed, the implants were designed to absorb into the body and chelate the unabsorbed components so that the body's immune system would respond and push the chelates through the bloodstream to the kidneys for expulsion.

"You know, it would be a lot easier to-"

"I'm not drinking my food, Ash."

Ashley set her datapad aside. "Those implants need to be washed out some how," she argued.

After a week of babysitting him day and night, Joker's quips were beginning to rub Ashley's nerves raw. She grit her teeth to keep from biting out a scathing remark and returned her attention back to the news of Kate First and her life partner's latest public squabble.

Joker had a good mind to shove the hover tray as hard as he could just to watch the food fly. He wondered if it would alleviate some of his frustration. He didn't know why Ashley had suddenly decided to camp out with him. If it was one thing Joker hated the most, it was to be left in the dark. His mother had constantly hid things from him—doctors' orders, boyfriends, doctors' observations about his condition... cookies. And he hated it, stressed him out. It didn't bode well for his stress level that he was just a helmsman and had to take orders without knowing why he was being ordered. Luckily, on board ships, he usually had access to the ship's inner communications systems so he was able to keep up with everything that was going on. Even the classified stuff.

What frustrated him the most though was that he was almost completely immobile. Breaks, fractures, pain and doctors visits were routine in his life, but it had never been like this. It had always been hard to get around. He managed his condition well by staying patient, taking his meds like he was supposed, and using his crutches and braces instead of being fool-hardy and trying to walk on his own. He'd never in his life been told that he would never again have true mobility, and it made him want to throw things.

So he did.

The bean hit Ashley in the chest and rolled down the V of her V-neck sweater. He blinked, stunned at his aim. She squeaked in surprise, dropping her datapad, and spluttered a series of colorful, very unladylike invectives.

Smiling hurt because it stretched the taut skin under the medi-gel patches on his face, but he grinned just the same, even inclined his head to get a better view as she reached down her shirt to remove the offending legume.

Ashley could not believe Joker chucked a bean—_A bean!_—at her. She leaned forward, looked down her shirt—_Son of bitch!_—and plucked the pinto out of her pale blue bra.

"What the hell, Moreau?" she demanded holding it up for him to see. Ashley already had to babysit his invalid ass, and now he was throwing food at her? "Are you eight?" She glared at him and his smug smile.

Joker shrugged, his grin wavering into a grimace of pain. "That'll teach you for being out of uniform," he told her, grunting as he leaned heavily on the pillows that kept him upright. He nudged the hover tray away, and the VI, thinking that he was done, clicked on its mini thrusters and the tray left the room.

_Out of uniform?_ What did that have to do with... with _anything_? Ashley cocked her head to the side, her hair slipping from behind her ear as she tried to read the enigmatic man on the bed.

"I'm off duty," she said.

"Bullshit." He looked away. "I wake up from a coma and suddenly you move in." Joker gestured to the cot in the corner. "I'm not stupid, Williams."

Ashley bit her lip. Admiral Hackett hadn't specified how much she could tell Joker. But they weren't exactly in a secure location, and the afternoon nurse would be there at any moment.

"I," she began, her mind working, trying to figure out a way to tell him and failing. "You don't want me here?" she asked instead, putting as much hurt into her voice as she could. It would have to work for now. She'd tell him after he was healed and out of the hospital.

The hurt in Ashley's voice cut through Joker, and he immediately felt guilty for suspecting anything of her. In the past week, he'd been in and out of consciousness and he could have sworn there was an armed guard present whenever Ashley left the room. It made little sense and put him on edge.

"What about the guard?" he asked, just to gauge her reaction. He was rewarded with an eyebrow lift and a disappointed sigh.

"Damned if I know," she told him. Then: "I just thought you might want some company." She picked up her datapad giving him an excellent view right down her shirt to her lace-bra covered breasts. An unwelcome thrill of excitement surged through his blood, and he swallowed, clenched his jaw, and looked away in irritation. _Way to honor your girl's memory, Moreau_, he chastised himself.

Ashley sauntered over to the cot where she'd been camping for the last week and shoved the datapad into her bag. She hoisted the bag onto her shoulder before turning to face him with a frown.

She was—was she leaving? Panic suddenly gripped him. Joker didn't want her to go. As much as he hated to admit it, her company had been better than just being alone. His brain worked, his mouth didn't cooperate.

"Your family is probably missing you." He had wanted to tell her to stay.

Her face fell. She'd been able to manipulate him with guilt-trips before. Why couldn't she now? "Well, it's not like I could go visit them," she said. And mentally face-palmed. _Way to go, Ash. Just tell him that you're ordered to guard him_.

Joker immediately became suspicious again. His brother had visited him. Why couldn't she go visit her family? "I thought you were off duty."

"No one knows about the crash."

Joker frowned, suddenly wanting her to get the hell out. "You aren't here out of concern," he accused, his voice full of contempt. "You just don't have a place to go until this boils over." He scoffed at her.

Ashley rolled her eyes. Arcturus was the second largest human-made station in the galaxy. "There are plenty of other places to stay." She glowered at him. "And the company is probably much better."

"I don't want your pity."

She stared at the broken man in the bed. How the hell was she supposed to convince him that she needed to stay without letting it slip that she was ordered to? It was true that she was concerned about him. She'd tried the guilt-trip—_but that worked _so_ well._

"You are the most frustrating person I've ever met," she told him angrily. She didn't know if she was more angry with him or herself or Admiral Hackett for putting her in this situation to begin with.

His gaze turned stony. "You think I like people—_friends_—seeing me like this?" he demanded and Ashley's heart turned over in her chest.

She swallowed. "I'm sorry, Jeff." And she meant it. "I'll leave you alone." She brushed her fingers lightly against his in apology. Ashley planned on leaving to request Joker be moved to a secure location. She wasn't expecting him to grip her hand lightly.

"No," he said and suddenly was a loss for words. He turned his gaze away. "I—" he began but stopped. "Look, I'm sorry too. It's just—" He shrugged, inhaling in pain.

She nodded. "You're out of your element and trapped in medi-gel."

He gave a nod and another wince, then a slow smile spread on his face. "Doesn't help that you wear provocative clothing." He wagged his eyebrows at her.

_The hell?_ She let go of his hand and crossed her arms at her chest. His gaze slid down her neck and rested on her breasts briefly before meeting her eyes again.

Provocative? Ashley looked down at her clothes. How the hell was a v-neck sweater and cargo pants provocative?

"Not standard issue."

She rolled her eyes and gave a flip of her head daring him to flirt more.

"You staying?" he asked quietly instead, their earlier argument all but forgotten.

In response, Ashley dropped her bag back onto her cot and dug out her datapad again. She smiled at him and he grinned back. She took up her position in the chair by his bed and listened to him complain that the hover tray had taken away his soggy food.

Ashley knew that she would really hurt him when he found out the truth but justified her decision by reminding herself that Joker's life was more valuable than his feelings.

* * *

_Sporks = love_


	4. Break, Break, Break

**Break, Break, Break**

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**Boötis Medical Center, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System  
****December 7, 2183**

* * *

Joker awoke to the beeps and humming of the AutoArt, his pulse pounding in his ears. Labored breaths caught in his throat as the last of the vestiges of the dream-turned-nightmare slinked away, back into the shadows of his mind from which it crawled. His skin felt too hot, too tight. He scratched his arms where the medi-gel had been removed the day before.

The hospital room was dark save the alternating flashes of lights of the medical equipment—blue, gold, red, green, all in tune with his bodily functions. His green eyes flicked to the readouts as he swallowed the bile that was forcing its way up his esophagus. Dr. Chakwas had gone over what everything meant the day before—_hours before_?—but he hadn't been paying attention, so stunned was he by the fact that she was even there to begin with. He'd felt relieved and angry all at the same time, letting her know what he thought about the situation in clipped bouts of sarcasm. She took it for a bit then started giving it back to him, so he shut up about it. Arguing with the good doctor was not conducive to his health—or staying conscious at least. She had drugs and knew how to use them.

He was not going to be sick, he determined. He swallowed again, drawing deep gulping breaths—somewhere in the back of his mind he was glad the doctor had taken him off the oxygen tank; he hated waking up to a dry mouth. He had no trouble working up saliva to swallow.

_I'm not gonna be sick. _

Sweat trickled across his brow, down the center of his forehead and into his eye. He wiped at the stinging fluid with the palm of his hand, focusing on the burn to keep the nausea at bay; he wrenched his eyes closed—still saw Shepard and Rebecca vividly, both in flames and crying for him to save them as their skin melted and oozed.

_I'm _not_ gonna be sick._

The smell of fires and burned hair and flesh and plastic from the bridge lingered from the dream—from the reality of living it. Joker's stomach did a pitch and roll, and he blinked back the sudden tears.

_Nononononono…_

He did the right thing, he told himself, a mantra repeated several times until he was calm enough that he didn't feel the urge to lean over the bed's railing and puke his guts out.

Staying on the bridge and keeping the ship from flying headlong into the atmosphere of the nearest planet was the right thing to do. Foxtrox lima tango and planets weren't very compatible. Messy. Shepard should have gotten to a landing boat. They hadn't been attacked by the geth. He had already told Ashley when she'd rushed up from her post that he was staying to draw fire away. And, yeah, he'd wanted to save the day again. Their attacker was much too big to be a geth mothership. It had been about the size of Sovereign. The _Normandy_ was a part of him. He didn't want—

Joker let out a breath of air, staring up at the ceiling, watching the lights flicker against the darkness. His chest burned, burdened with the idea that had he been a better pilot, then maybe he could have saved the ship and her crew.

_I did the right thing._

He breathed in deeply, becoming aware of his surroundings as he fully awoke, his stomach still rolling. It was either very early or very late; either way it equated to Ashley still being asleep. His eyes cut to her cot. It was difficult to see in the flickers of color from the AutoArt, but he was able to make out her sleeping form, her head under the thin blanket, her black hair spilling out from beneath like an inky palm print—a contrast against the pale yellow of the pillow and covers.

It still bothered Joker that there was a guard at the door, and Ashley had moved in with him, but he had been careful the past few days not to ignite another feud with her. The idea of being alone struck a chord in him whereas before he liked the solitude. Something was wrong with the whole scenario. He felt it deep within his bones, brittle though they may have been. He was especially displeased that Ashley had seemingly lied to him about them being the only Top-levels to survive when Dr. Chakwas herself had made an appearance and upon seeing him clicked her tongue in that annoying habit of hers. It was her way of kicking the shit out of him. Had Lynn Chakwas been a soldier and not a doctor sworn to "first: do no harm", he felt certain she would have used his head as a punching bag and his balls would be in a little felt box to be given to Wrex as a war prize—or she might have kept them for herself; after dipping them in brandy to preserve them. The idea of having pickled testicles made his cock jerk in fear.

He scowled again at the ceiling like it was ceiling's fault he was stuck in bed. And then there was the matter of the Reapers swept so casually under the rug months before after Shepard had done her damnedest to stop them from taking control of the Citadel.

At least Shepard had given him the codes to get through to Hackett, otherwise the fleet in the Andura sector never would have listened to him. The Brass had yet to come in and take his statement about what had happened; he was expecting it any day now. He couldn't remember the details, just fragments—the course vectors were lost to him; he remembered hitting the relay, but where they'd gone from there was not something he could remember now—panels blowing, Pressly yelling, Shepard issuing the Evac, Ashley yelling at him to move his ass, Beck's body on fire—

He shook his head at that, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the images. The beeps of the AutoArt increased with his heart rate. Joker swallowed, trying to will calm, to reign in the ache in his heart.

_If I'd been faster, the Normandy wouldn't be gone; Shepard would still be alive; and Beck would still be my girl_.

Ashley awoke, startled with the new, faster sounds of the medical equipment in the room. She had just been drifting back asleep from a particularly nasty dream when the AutoArt picked up its usual pace. And did Joker say something? She thought he grunted or coughed or—

Pushing herself up—wide awake now from years of Marine training—she padded over to Joker's bedside, studying the aerogel display for anything that might signify the sudden spike and feeling very uneducated and inadequate for not understanding anything she saw. A line of worry scribbled itself across her forehead as she turned and looked down at Joker, his features etched in pain as he took shallow breaths, eyes shut.

Ashley's heart went out to him and instinctively she reached for his arm, fingers traversing down to his wrist. He jumped at the contact, instantly awake, startling a gasp out of both of them. She put a hand over her heart. _Damn!_ She stared, wordlessly.

Joker recovered first, scowling under the gold, green and red lights. "What the hell are you doing?" he questioned in a harsh whisper.

Ash bit her lip, momentarily abashed as she searched for a plausible explanation. The machine had stopped with the louder beeps as Joker lay back against the pillows again.

"Checking on you," she whispered back, angry with herself for being embarrassed—she was concerned, damn it. "The thing woke me up." She reached for his arm again, his skin smooth beneath her fingertips. His pulse was steady at his wrist, but she moved on and latched onto his hand—it was cold compared to the rest of him.

Joker nodded, taking a small comfort in the warmth of her hand in his. His gaze traveled over her face to watch the play of lights over her smooth skin and his pulse kicked up notch. Naturally the AutoArt picked up the subtle flux, confusing sudden desire with possible heart problem—both irritating him and humiliating him as she looked at the machine in confusion, a frown forming on her lips. His body's reaction to her nearness was none of her damn business.

"Are you in pain?" she asked, looking back at him. She didn't whisper this time. "I could call the nurse." Her voice was soothing, but oddly disconcerting in the darkness of the room.

He shook his head. "Just a nightmare." It was true—for the most part.

"I know what those are like," she told him, and he frowned.

"Doubt it." He shouldn't have said it—knowing what she had been through on Eden Prime and in their rush to get to Saren before it was too late—but it came out anyhow.

Her features contorted with shock and anger; she released his hand, taking away her warmth. Even her voice, normally warm and silky, was cold and distant when she replied. "I've seen shit you haven't, Joker."

Ashley let the anger wash over her. He'd been on the _Normandy_ for the trip, not in the field as she and—_God bless them_—Shepard and Alenko had been. Joker had no inkling of the crap she had to deal with or of the horrors that she had seen. Losing her unit had been rough. It hadn't broken her, but made her a stronger person. Virmire was worse—that whole op was fucked from the minute the Council told Shepard about it. But the slave ring on Sharjila just after the Battle of the Citadel really drove home the horrors of the galaxy. Shepard had felt she owed that asari diplomat a favor since the diplomat had claimed that her sister was all she had left.

She closed her eyes and tried to forget the poor captured souls huddled like beaten animals in back of the slavers' base. If serving with Shepard and Alenko had taught her anything, it was that no matter what species they were, sentient beings really knew how to do evil shit to each other.

"Yeah?" Joker refused to be affected by her sudden coldness. "You think I wouldn't be right out in the muck if I could?"

That question caught Ash off guard. Joker was a fighter, sure, but she couldn't picture him with an assault rifle. "You're not allowed to play the cripple card," she told him hotly. "You've already used up your allotted cripple quota for the year."

"Aw, but it's what I do best," he said smoothly, with no expression on his face, "other than, you know, getting my CO spaced."

She rolled her eyes. "You did what you thought was best," she told him, seriously.

He studied her, scowling fiercely before quoting, "'Break, break, break, / On thy cold gray stones, O Sea. / And I would that my tongue could utter / The thoughts that arise in me.'"

The look on her face made him instantly regret quoting Tennyson—he, Alenko and Shepard were the only three that she had invited to commemorate Armistice Day—and he was the only survivor who knew of her love for Tennyson poetry from her drunken tirade that night. (He'd memorized a few of the shorter poems to impress Ash while Beck had gone through a month-long "I-hate-you-right-now" thing.)

Ashley narrowed her eyes at him before biting out the next stanza of "Break, Break, Break." She put enough force into the stanza to make him shrink back a little.

"O well for the fisherman's boy,  
That he shouts for his sister at play!  
O well for the sailor lad,  
That he sings for his boat on the bay!"

Then she spun on her heel, long hair striking out as she turned, and went back to bed, covering her head with the blanket. Joker went back to staring at the ceiling—confused and wondering what the fuck just happened.

All women had "I-hate-you-right-now" things, he decided. _Especially Rebecca_, the voice in his mind's eye whispered, its tendrils snaking around his heart once again.

Joker scrubbed a shaky hand over his face, not wanting to remember Beck and her ways. He wanted to focus on the here and now, as miserable as it was. So, he and Beck were close. So what? And, yeah, there had been that time in the head—but it was just stress relief and Beck was _there_ and _willing (God, was she willing.)_—and Ash had _caught_ them, and, yeah, it was awkward for a couple of weeks afterward, but it wasn't—

It _wasn't_ love. She was a crewmate, and he had a strict no-dating policy when it came to crewmates. Fuck the Regs. Fucking onboard was fine as long as no one got caught. Dating onboard ships was just messy.

Joker shook his head. _No_. He cared about Beck, and he cared about Ashley. He hadn't been using Beck to make Ashley jealous. He cared about Beck more. That didn't make it love. Sure he cared. She was sweet and full of life and vigor and sexy… She'd still be alive if he was a better pilot… He missed her now that… now that…

Now that she was…

_Shit._

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**Commandant's Chambers, Hades Station, [Data Corrupted]  
****December 10, 2183**  


* * *

Dr. Boaz shifted nervously, the tale-tale tick of his left knee coupled with a compulsive flick of his long, tapered fingers. The Illusive Man narrowed his eyes at the holographic projection, but otherwise remained calm, waiting like a lioness of Earth's African wilds for her prey to stray from the pack.

"Operative Chambers is in route," Boaz reported. His voice was smooth, calm.

The Illusive Man nodded, a shrewd smile revealing perfectly aligned white teeth. "Excellent. What is her condition?"

"The strain is contained. The symptoms will need to be treated by the end of the month or there will be no stopping the contagion. The tailored virions have already begun mutating within her system. The mRNA will not translate to just the target by then. We'll need to—"

"Has she infected the target?"

"Negative, sir."

"When will she make contact?"

Now, Boaz shifted again, his nervousness more obvious—his knee ticking twice, his fingers flitting at his sides in a preprogrammed dance of neurosurgery AutoArt codes. "The Councilor's trip to Arcturus was cancelled at the last minute. He won't be there by the time Chambers arrives."

The Illusive Man angrily flicked his cigarette, sending ash flying away from the tray. It was the only indication he gave that he was agitated with the turn of events. "I see."

"I've made contact with one of the Councilor's aides," Boaz continued hastily. "He can arrange a meeting before the end of the month."

"And what about Moreau?" The Illusive Man took a deep inhale of his cigarette, exhaling to calm himself before losing patience with the doctor.

"He's to begin physical therapy tomorrow. He's not in any condition to move from Boötis. Dr. Chakwas will get suspicious—"

"I think she needs to know more about the organization," the Illusive Man interrupted, tired of excuses.

Boaz looked at him in shock.

"You said yourself that Dr. Chakwas is the foremost expert on Joker's condition," the leader of Cerberus stated. "Feed her just enough information to make her cooperative. We'll worry about inducting her long-term once we've secured Moreau." He took a sip of his liquor and continued, his voice velvet-edged steel, "I want a more amenable human Councilor, and I want Moreau under the knife. You have by the first of the year."

He punched the control to lose the connection before he lost his temper.

* * *

_What? You didn't think I would give Kelly a cold and not use it, did you? ::evil grin::_

_Title of chapter and the poetry quote is "Break, Break, Break" by Lord Alfred Tennyson._

_What say you? Feedback is love._

_FYI: Foxtrox lima tango = military phonetics for FTL_


	5. Spider's Web

_**Spider's Web**_

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****Boötis Medical Center, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System  
****December 11, 2183**

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"You come very highly recommended, Ms. Chambers," Dr. Boaz said, his voice a quiet rumble, as he and Kelly stepped through the Boötis Medical Center's rotating door and into the bustling lobby. Arcturus was primarily a human military installation and the alien population was the minority, but there were a few asari and salarian workers and patrons that caught Kelly's eye.

Kelly's heart swelled with pride at Dr. Boaz's words. _Humbly, humbly,_ she thought quickly, forcing a small smile at the tall man, _flattery was used to manipulate_. It was something she excelled at. She willed herself to be demure – a complete opposite of who she really was. The Illusive Man had ordered her to stay in character at all times. _"You never know who is watching,"_ he had said.

"That was very kind of them," she told Dr. Boaz, purposely not meeting his gaze. Her shoulders and neck ached from the flight from Hades Station, exacerbated by the flu her body's immune system was fighting. Only a few more days, the doctor had assured her earlier, and she could start the antibiotic therapy.

The doctor smiled down at her, his posture rigid, and led the way to the elevator. Kelly studied the man's profile discretely from under heavy lashes, taking in his hooked nose, tall brow, and the set of his broad shoulders. She knew his mannerisms from various vid sources. Rigid posture was not normal for him. Nor was the wiggling of his fingertips. The doctor was normally composed and in control. _Nervous_, she wondered. _A new puzzle to be solved, perhaps._

They stepped onto the elevator that would take them to Dr. Boaz's newest patient, Kelly's target, and Kelly put Boaz out of her mind for now. As suspicious as his behavior was, it would have to wait. She had a job to do. The Illusive Man – Cerberus – would be proud of her. She made a mental list of everything she knew about Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau.

Dr. Boaz tried again to get information out of her by asking a series of pointed questions about her schooling.

"Doctor," she said finally, adjusting the pitch of her voice to come across as curious and concerned, "you have all of my files. Have you not had a chance to look over them?" She blinked to add to the portrayal of her confusion.

Boaz smiled, his thin lips parting to reveal straight white teeth. "I'm just getting to know you, my dear." The way he said it set alarm bells ringing in Kelly's head.

"Well, in that case," she said smoothly, smiling coyly, "where would you like to begin?"

**

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**Human Consulate, Citadel Station, Widow System, Serpent Nebula**  
**December 11, 2183**

******

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**

Councilor David Anderson leaned over the railing of his office's balcony overlooking the Presidium lake. The lake had yet to be filled to its normal levels, and most of it was green and brown from some kind of scum coating the top. The rest of the Presidium looked just as bad, even after four months of round-the-clock construction and clean-up efforts. The larger chunks of the massive Reaper, Sovereign, had only recently been cleared away leaving destruction and, in most cases, bodies in its wake. Of the embassies on the Presidium, only the human and asari embassies had been virtually untouched. The hanar-drell and volus-elcor embassies had been crushed by falling debris of turian and human make along with some of the smaller pieces of Sovereign.

Anderson gave a sigh, before pushing up and away from the railing. At least the "sky" had recently been returned to its normal settings. Up until last week, it was still an eerie red and flickered in places. Now the twenty-hour cycle was back in place and it was beginning to feel more welcoming to the citizens who made the Presidium their home.

He walked over to his desk and grabbed his dark blue jacket, swinging it on and fastening it, his thick fingers fumbling over some of the fasteners at his neck.

His administrative assistant, a male turian named Decius Hostilian, looked up from the yellow-gold screen on his desk as Anderson stepped out of his office. The turian, the brother of a Primarch in the Pulchra cluster, had a small fringe and a white, elaborate colonial marking across the rough, metallic surface of his face signifying his Parthia Colony roots.

"Councilor," he greeted with an inclination of his head, a traditional sign of respect. "You have a few incoming messages." The flanging of Decius' voice played havoc on Anderson's translator, and the Councilor discretely adjusted the top button of his jacket – where the translator was nestled – to better understand his assistant. The Parthia colonials' flanging – similar to the different human dialects – was more prominent in their speech patterns.

"Thank you, Decius," Anderson told the turian. "Forward the important ones to my terminal. I'll look over them after lunch."

Again, the turian inclined his head, and the human Councilor returned the gesture as best he could.

Anderson walked out and down the short flight of stairs, hedging around the repair drones, Keepers and Presidium groundskeepers. A Keeper scuttled in front of him and he had to dodge the creature to get out its way.

As he approached the bridge that would take him to one of the many shopping districts on the Presidium his omni-tool chirped.

_To: Councilor David Anderson_  
_From: -BLOCKED-_  
_Subject: -No subject specified-_

_Guardians of the Gate on the move. Usual meeting place._

The human Councilor clenched his jaw and turned and took the bridge to the Financial District. Lunch would have to wait.

* * *

**Boötis Medical Center, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System  
****December 11, 2183**

* * *

There were needles in his legs.

Joker sat as still as he could, watching the various muscles pulsate from the electrical currents running through the acupuncture needles. It felt like roaches were crawling up and down his legs under his skin at each median point. _Roaches._ There were _roaches_ under his _skin_. He shuddered. Sweat trickled down the sides of his face, and he looked away from the jumping of his muscles. His green eyes met Ashley's brown ones. She'd been watching him get the first round of physical therapy, a datapad all but forgotten in her lap. Silence hung heavily in the air.

"Does that hurt?" she asked.

"Not the most pleasant experience," he conceded. He was not going to allow her to accuse him of being macho again. It still bothered him that she thought that just because he wanted to be able to do stuff on his own that he was being a "typical macho male." He was still pissed at her.

To his dismay, Dr. Chakwas turned up the electrical current, making his legs jump. "Ow, ow, _ow_!"

She blinked at him and turned it down. "Hm," she said noncommittally and made a notation on her datapad.

"I'm not even going to ask what the fuck that was about," he proclaimed.

"My, but you're in a mood this morning," Chakwas said with a shake of her head.

He glared at her. "I have needles in my legs. How else would you like me to react?"

Chakwas knew he had no love for needles. Most of his regular medications came in injectible form but he chose the pill route just to save himself from stabbing his leg.

"Dr. Boaz will be here shortly," she warned as she chuckled at him. "Do try to be civil."

"Oh, yes, let's," he quipped clasping his hands together and mocking her accent. "Let's be civil to the man who, in a few days, plans to cut me open."

Dr. Chakwas turned to Ashley. "Did you two get into another fight?"

Ashley's answer was to study the datapad in her hands, her knuckles turning white from gripping the device so hard. Joker didn't know how to react to that so he turned his attention to the blinking lights of the AutoArt. And maybe he didn't want to react anyway, he thought. If he reacted to her _non_reaction - and it was a _non_reaction to Chakwas' question - then maybe his reaction would be... He stopped his line of thinking, letting out an irritated puff of breath.

If she wanted to be difficult, fine. Two could play at that game. He settled for scowling and crossing his arms over his chest, all the while the muscles in his legs continued to jolt about.

Chakwas shook her head mumbling something about shagging and getting it over with as she stepped away from him to fiddle with the AutoArt, lessening the voltage to the acupuncture needles. Joker was not one to get embarrassed easily, but at her comment, his pulse jumped, his breath left him in a whoosh, and his face felt a little warm. He cleared his throat as it threatened to close up and choke him, studying his ankles. The helmsman found the way his right foot bowed in from his syndrome more interesting than looking over at Ashley just then. He knew color was flooding his face by the mischievous smirk on his doctor's face. Joker gave Dr. Chakwas a narrow, icy glare and went back to studying his ankles.

The door slid open to reveal the tall, imposing figure of whom Joker assumed to be Dr. Boaz. Chakwas rounded the AutoArt and shook the tall man's hand.

"Doctor," she greeted.

_Beck?_

Joker ignored everything being said between the doctors as a familiar woman stepped out from behind Dr. Boaz. Heart clamoring in his chest, Joker took in her features, her red-gold hair with short, wispy bangs falling across her forehead, green eyes, and fair skin. _Rebecca._ Hope swelled then ebbed as he realized that she was only a look alike – he saw the resemblance and the contrasts and desperately wished he had a holo of Rebecca to compare.

"Hello," she greeted, a smile parting her moist, plush lips. "I'm Kelly Chambers."

He stammered out something – his name he thought – as his pulse ratcheted up another notch. She stepped closer, and he noticed the faint splatter of freckles across her nose and her oddly intoxicating scent of citrus and spices.

"I've been assigned as your physical therapist," she told him, smiling happily like she had said the most wonderful thing in the galaxy.

He wondered how the universe could be so cruel.

* * *

_**Nerdy stuff:**__ Gaius Valens Hostilianus Messius Quintus, AKA Hostilian, was a Roman Emperor whose father was Emperor Decius and whose older brother was Emperor Herennius Etruscus. Hostilian was emperor of Rome for less than a year before dying of the Plague of Cyprian in 251 AD. He was approximately twenty to twenty-four years of age, considered inexperienced, and was co-emperor with Gaius Vibius Trebonianus Gallus after the dual deaths of Emperor Decius and Emperor Herennius at the battle of Abrittus._


	6. Gordian Knot

_More technobabble than you can shake a stick at this chapter._

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_**Gordian Knot**_

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**Systems Alliance Headquarters—Office of the Fifth Fleet Commandant, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System  
****December 12, 2183 **

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_System Alliance Mail v. 8.2 - - - - - - - - - - - Adm. Steven Hackett,5THFLTCOM - - - - - - - - - - - - System Log: True_

_- - - - Compose New / / Reply / / Reply All / / Forward / / Delete - - - -_

_SSV4260-R/A16  
__S.S.V. daVinci (SSV4260-R)_

_Serial: 098-3444-4260-R_

_Care of Comm Buoy Marpean-kurrk #90-77Z,  
__5THFLTCOM, Arcturus Station  
__Encryption Packet #R2-270502-D2-42103Alpha-Boo_

_12 December 2183_

_-C-O-N-F-I-D-E-N-T-I-A-L-_

_From: Acting Commanding Officer, S.S.V. daVinci (SSV4260-R)  
__To: Fifth Fleet Commandant, Systems Alliance 5THFLTCOM  
__Via: Official Channels_

_Subject: S.S.V. daVinci (SSV4260-R), Loss Of and Report of War Patrol Number Two._

_Attachments: _

_(A) Subject Report_

_(B) Battle Report_

_(C) Casualty Report_

_(D) Damage Report_

_(E) Transcripts_

_1. Attachment (A), covering the Second War Patrol of this vessel in the Serpent Nebula during the period of August 3, 2183 to August 15, 2183, is forwarded herewith._

_2. During the period from August 13, 2183 to August 14, 2183, a special mission was carried out which is the subject of a special report. Attachment (B), which covers the siege of Citadel Station by geth forces, is forwarded herewith._

_3. Commanding Officer, Rose J. Bodenwieser, Captain, S.A. Navy, was killed in the line of duty. Executive Officer, Samuele Li Fonti, Commander, S.A. Navy, was promoted in field to Acting Commanding Officer. Ship's company prior to siege: 3,200 souls; Ship's company after siege: 1,428 souls. Most casualties occurred from geth fighter and interceptor close-range attacks of hanger bays and the destruction of detachment wings. Attachment (C), which covers all souls killed in the line of duty or missing in action as of December 12, 2183, is forwarded herewith._

_4. Vessel is currently undergoing repairs and refit of damaged systems at Cord-Hislop Aerospace Tuonela Fleet Depot, Boltzmann System. Vessel sustained heavy damage and personnel casualties during siege of Citadel Station from August 13, 2183 to August 14, 2183. Attachment (D), covering the damages sustained and recommended repairs, upgrades and refits, is forwarded herewith._

_5. Spacecraft onboard: 150; two fighter detachment wings: Red Wing and Gold Wing. One interceptor detachment wing: Blue Wing. All destroyed. No survivors recovered. Attachment (E), covering the transcripts of the battle, is forwarded herewith._

_6. The Acting Commanding Officer of the S.S.V. daVinci regrets that such damage and casualties prevented the S.S.V. daVinci from completing her mission objectives._

_S. Li Fonti, Cmdr., S.A. Navy  
__Acting Commanding Officer, S.S.V. daVinci_

_/ /-Attachments: A (49148.32 mb), B (32731.45 mb), C (29238.98 mb), D (49743.82 mb), E (83498.21 mb)_

_Save Attachments? Yes / / No_

_System Alliance Mail v. 8.2 - - - - - - - - - - - Adm. Steven Hackett,5THFLTCOM - - - - - - - - - - - - System Log: True_

Admiral Steven Hackett looked up from the most recently received Loss Report as Joe, his VI assistant, chimed. The Admiral rubbed his tired eyes with his thumb and forefinger before answering his assistant. He had specifically ordered the device not to disturb him.

"What is it, Joe?" he asked irritably.

"Admiral, you have a coded, incoming message from Citadel Station," the VI informed him. "Marked: Urgent. Encryption packet: Loch82-Epsilon Delta."

He nodded warily as he stood and walked over to the comm terminal near his office's only bookshelf. "Put the Councilor through."

Councilor David Anderson's image appeared immediately. "Steven."

"David."

"We've got a problem," Anderson told him. "My contact thinks Cerberus is up to something more convoluted than we originally thought."

"Attack on the Normandy not enough?"

Anderson held up his hands. "I still maintain that that could have been a Reaper attack. The surviving crew continues to claim they were silent running, and the ship was destroyed with some kind of plasma weapon. Only Sovereign had that type of technology."

"Or it could have been one of the Reapers' agents," suggested Hackett. "Moreau hasn't been questioned yet. We don't know what he saw out there. And we haven't even recovered the Normandy to fully assess the situation." He received a frown as an answer. David wasn't going to listen to him. So he changed the subject. "Convoluted, you say?"

Anderson shook his head ruefully and met the Admiral's gaze. "We can't hide Shepard's MIA status any longer. I don't know how the media found out, but it's going to be big and plastered on every extranet site from here to Omega. And that's just the beginning."

Steven nodded. "It's been three months since the Normandy went down. I'm surprised there hasn't been a leak before now. I'll get together with the Press Corps today and issue an official statement. I think it's safe to say she's been killed in action."

"Does her mother know?"

"No. The less Hannah knows the better. She's on the short list to be vetted as an admiral."

Anderson nodded, looked displeased. "I know. Udina put her there at the request of parliamentarian Murrin Tikkanen. Or so he says."

"Ever the thorn in your side?"

The Councilor scoffed and then said, "I got your report on the missing colony. My money's on Cerberus."

"Can you verify it?" Hackett asked. "There's always the possibility of slavers. The Terminus is crawling with them. You know that, David."

The other man sighed. "Yeah. I know that." He shook his head. "And no. I didn't even bring it up. All I know is Jeff Moreau is a very real target. I haven't been able to verify Williams yet. The information you gave me only got me so far."

Hackett let out a frustrated breath of air. "How bad?"

"They want him dead, they know where he is, and they have agents within Arcturus. He knows _something_, Steven."

The Admiral swore under his breath and cast a weighted gaze upon the Councilor. "And you still believe the attack on the Normandy wasn't Cerberus?"

"I didn't say that I trust my contact," David defended. "However, my contact with the Shadow Broker can get Joker and a small team of body guards off Arcturus. Cerberus is a human terrorist group. The Shadow Broker agrees that he's in danger there."

Hackett nodded and listened to Anderson's plan.

* * *

**Boötis Medical Center, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System  
****December 13, 2183**

* * *

Dr. Piotr Boaz moistened his dry lips with a flick of his tongue as his fingers danced against the pale-blue aerogel display of the AutoArt. The doctor waited patiently as the anesthesiologist did the last scan of the younger man's nearly-nude body. Piotr brought the machine's arm into range of the port that had been installed directly into the vein under Jeff Moreau's collarbone. A tube of mercurial liquid was attached to the end of the arm ready for injection into the patient.

There were six ports installed into Moreau's body. The first port, on his right side was the anesthetic port; the other ports – three on one side, three on the other including the anesthestic port – would be used to intravenously administer the nanites for the newly-developed Bone Weave procedure. There was no cure for the man's condition, however the nanites would build a skeletal lattice against Moreau's skeleton that would work similar to the larger cybernetic implants previously used to heal the breaks from his crash. In theory, the lattice work would reinforce the bones and the medi-gel conduits would allow for bone regen in a matter of days.

_In theory._

Piotr could see the more prominent deformities caused by the Osteogenesis Imperfecta now that Moreau was unclothed. Moreau's right femur curved slightly and the right fibula was nearly fused to the tibia at an arresting angle – only a brace on his ankle served to keep his right foot from bowing in. On his left side, his scapula had grown at an odd angle causing Moreau's hunch-like stature when upright. A glance at an x-ray showed a myriad of scar-tissue on the man's spine from vertebral compression fractures – three of his thoracic and two of his lumbar vertebrae were fused due to the scarring of the bones.

If the skeletal lattice was effective, Boaz would forward the information on to Operatives Lawson and Wilson to use in the revival of Commander Shepard. If not, his instructions were to re-code the influenza virus given to Kelly Chambers to affect the Lieutenant.

The anesthesiologist gave a curt nod as she disconnected the port's catheter. "He's completely under. You have an hour and a half before I have to administer the next dose."

Dr. Boaz inclined his head to her and initiated the process.

_

* * *

_

Letter format was taken from declassified WWII US Navy submarine reports located on the Historical Naval Ships Association website and spruced up to fit the Mass Effect 'verse. FF Dot Net messed up my formatting though. D:


	7. Whited Sepulchre

**Whited Sepulchre**

**

* * *

**

**[Unidentified], [Retracted], [Data Corrupted]  
****[Date Not Logged]**

* * *

22:00: [m3rcbntyhntR.0001 has logged on]

22:01: [opkech02 has logged on]

22:01: O: [Data corrupted] [Retracted] What are your standard fees?

22:01: M: You want him alive, my standard rate is 50,000 now and balance upon delivery. You pay all costs of the job plus my base fee of 95,000.

22:01: M: If he runs, my fee goes up. I don't guarantee he'll stay alive.

22:02: M: I can guarantee he'll live for a nominal fee of 125,000 and only if the bastard doesn't make me chase him. I'm not responsible for broken bones, bruises or bullet holes.

22:02: M: I'm not a goddamn nurse. I don't administer medical attention.

22:03: O: And your 'dead' rate?

22:03: M: You want him dead? Damn. Poor bast – [ Data Corrupted] – rate is 25,000 now; pay the balance on delivery. My base fee is 75,000 and you pay all the costs of the job.

22:03: M: My fee goes up if he runs. I don't guarantee delivery of the entire body. I usually just cut of the bastard's hand or something.

22:03: M: One time, I was asked to cut the cock off a cheating – [Data Corrupted] You should have seen the look on his girl's face when I – [Data Corrupted]

22:15: M: The fee goes up to 100,000 if you want me to deliver the whole body. You pay to clean the smell of rotting flesh out of my armor.

22:15: M: I don't hide bodies. I don't keep bodies. I don't sell bodies to batarians. I might sell the body to turians for an additional, negotiable handling fee. Again, you pay to clean the smell out of my armor.

22:20: O: Your price is steep.

22:20: M: You wanted the best. Are you going to goddamn whine about it or pay up and let me do the job for you?

22:20: [opkech02 has logged off]

22:20: [opkech02 has logged on]

22:21: M: Well? What will it be? I don't have all day.

22:22: O: I want the best. You have the job. Here are your instructions. [attachment: bek.90210 – jrpg.33811]

22:30: M: You're goddamn joking.

22:30: O: This is no joke, Mr. [Retracted]. Follow the instructions. Receive your payment.

22:34: M: Transfer the creds, and I'll be on my way.

22:35: [ePayMe! data packet received from opkech02. . . .]

22:36: [transfer in progress. . . . ]

22:37: [please wait. . . .]

22:39: [transfer in progress. . . .]

22:40: [please wait. . . .]

22:42: [transfer complete. . . .]

22:42: [Sum of 25,000 credits has been deposited to your account number 78883XX-XX-33-XX!]

22:42: [Thank you for using ePayMe! Your Creds in Real Time, Today!]

22:43: M: Pleasure doing business with you.

22:43: [opkech02 has logged out]

22:44: [m3rcbntyhntR.0001 has logged out]

* * *

**Commandant's Chambers, Hades Station, [Data Corrupted]  
****December 14, 2183**

**

* * *

**The head of Cerberus inhaled smoke from his cigarette just as Kelly Chambers' full-body image appeared on the quantum entanglement comm. It was the first time he'd seen her face-to-face, so to speak, after her latest modifications. She looked good with red hair, he decided. After this mission, perhaps she would dance for him again. Her posture was relaxed, a good sign. The comm, however, highlighted the dark circles under eyes and the glassiness of her newly-colored green eyes.

"Kelly," he greeted, smiling warmly, puzzled and irritated as to why Boaz hadn't updated him on the physical effects of the virus. She shouldn't have been showing any signs to indicate illness. He flicked the ashes from his cigarette in irritation and laid it to rest on the tray.

"Dr. Boaz said you wanted to speak with me, sir," she told him, blinking back the weariness in her eyes. "Would you like a full report or just a summary?"

"I'll wait for your written weekly report in a few days," he said. "I only wanted to pass some information on to you and to see if you had any pertinent information about Joker." He took a swallow of his bourbon neat and sat the glass back on its holder on his chair. "The Alliance is moving Joker to the safe house on Bekenstein, and I'm sending Dr. Boaz ahead to search for Alliance surveillance equipment and install some of our own.

"They think Cerberus wants him dead."

Kelly looked confused, all traces of weariness leaving. "Dead? Why would they think that?" Her posture was now on alert.

_Good girl._

He took another drag from his cigarette and gave a shrug as he exhaled the smoke. "At the moment, it doesn't matter," he said as the smoke ringed his head. "We can use this to our advantage. Get him alone, and you can better do your job."

She nodded, smiling brightly. "Yes, sir. That's a wonderful plan."

"I understand he's still unconscious."

Her features morphed into concern. "He's in terrible pain. Every time he moves, he moans." She shook her head sadly. "They've changed his pain meds a few times now."

Ms. Chambers was always one to show compassion. It was what made her one of his better operatives. No one expected the pretty, concerned young woman to be the freedom fighter.

She continued, "The doctors have taken to keeping him completely sedated until the nanites have completed doing… whatever it is they're supposed to be doing. I have to admit, it's all over my head. I'll be working closely with him just as soon as he's able to move properly. He'll need to move soon, or he'll have less mobility than he had before the surgery. The Lieutenant has lost a lot of muscle mass."

"Have they given you a time line?"

She shook her head; it was all he could do to keep his face neutral. Another setback; another drag on his cigarette to calm his nerves. "Dr. Boaz is more positive than Dr. Chakwas. He says two to three days. Dr. Chakwas says a week to ten days. As brilliant as Dr. Boaz is, I'm more inclined to go with Dr. Chakwas' assessment."

"Why is that?"

"Well, sir, Dr. Chakwas is the authority on Vrolik Syndrome, and Lieutenant Moreau has been her patient for years." She paused, looked pensive. "I've looked over his records. There are notations from Dr. Chakwas since he was a boy." She cocked her head to the side. "It's like she's taken him under her wing; made his syndrome her life's work. Amazing , really."

The Illusive Man made a mental note of this as she continued to elaborate on some of the effects the brittle bone disease had on Joker's body, only half-way paying attention to her. Lieutenant Moreau's records had been sealed years ago, and now he knew why they couldn't get into them. Dr. Chakwas was already working with them, albeit reluctantly. If Cerberus recruited one, it was likely the other would follow. _Good._

He made a noncommittal sound before changing the subject. "Has Chief Williams been a problem?"

"Not so far. She's the one who suggested keeping him sedated." Kelly looked concerned. "She's so worried about him. There's a definite attraction there, too. However, you could ask her to her face, and she would deny it."

The head of Cerberus made another mental note: Kelly's compassion may warrant observing closely. Her loyalty to Cerberus was vital to this mission.

"She's been assigned to protect him," he told her. " You'll either need to discredit her or get rid of her at the first opportunity. I'll let you decide the best course of action."

"'Protect him'?" Kelly repeated, looked puzzled. The set of her shoulders changed as she looked thoughtful. "She's told me that they're friends who served on the Normandy together."

"That's correct."

"From her body language regarding Lieutenant Moreau, I'd say she's more than a friend. She also says that she's only there visiting, and she's on shore leave." Kelly smiled. "I might be able to use that to my advantage. I don't think she's told Jeff. In fact, I think she's let him believe that she's there solely as a personal matter."

The Illusive Man nodded in approval. "How's your health?" he asked, took a long pull of his bourbon.

Now, her posture grew rigid, and she looked somewhat guilty. "Honestly, sir, I can hardly wait until Dr. Boaz says I can begin the antibiotic treatments. I feel terrible most days." She raised her hands and quickly reassured him, "But it hasn't stopped me from doing my job."

He nodded again as he set aside his drink. "It may well get in the way if Dr. Chakwas suspects you have a cold. I would imagine Lieutenant Moreau shouldn't be in your vicinity just after surgery. For now, keep your distance. I'm sure his immune system is trying to cope with the nanites. I'll have a talk with Dr. Boaz about beginning your treatments."

She gave him a big smile, relief clearly written on her face and in her posture. "Yes sir! Thank you, sir!"

"I'll expect your written report by the end of the week via the usual channels," he told her and cut the connection.

* * *

**Systems Alliance Headquarters—Office of the Fifth Fleet Commandant, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System  
****December 14, 2183**

* * *

Admiral Steven Hackett bit off a scathing reply as Ambassador Donnel Udina paced around the comm unit, his image dipping out and then back again.

"Do you even realize the political ramifications of allowing such a surgery to take place on Arcturus Station?" the Ambassador demanded. "Citadel Conventions –"

"Dr. Boaz is the Alliance's most brilliant surgeon," Admiral Hackett assured him. "He's the best and the brightest."

Udina didn't look particularly happy. "Yes," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's what you said about Commander Shepard, too." He tossed his hands up in the air. "She ended up being a raving lunatic with too much power. _Councilor_ Anderson still believes her." Udina sniffed. "And so does her mother."

Steven let him go on for another few minutes before asking , "Is there a reason for this call, Ambassador, or are you just looking to rant?"

Donnel turned an interesting shade of purple. Steven secretly hoped he would drop dead. "My career is on the line! It's bad enough one of our people detonated a nuclear warhead on a planet with a population."

Hackett rolled his eyes at that. Donnel didn't like Shepard because she didn't give a rat's ass about politics or that Udina's precious career hung in the balance of her decisions. "Commander Shepard was instrumental in the Siege," he pointed out. "Saren and the geth would have had access to every government and every census across the galaxy. He could have put himself and his little AI minions into power, and we'd have a dictator like none have ever seen."

Udina's response was to grumble something the comm didn't exactly pick up. Steven ignored it. He didn't want to know.

"As for your political career," he continued, "I suggest you stop micromanaging. The less you know the better."

"A little late for that!"

The Ambassador was right, and – as much as Admiral Hackett disliked Donnel Udina – were the annoying little twit to be replaced, it would set things back for Fifth Fleet and quite possibly humanity. He was just loud enough to be the irritating cocklebur just under the hems of the Council's fancy clothes. He got things accomplished.

"This will go away just like the Reaper threat," the Admiral assured him.

"There are no Reapers!"

"You took the words right out my mouth, Donnel."

Admiral Hackett cut the connection with a shake of his head. Moreau's records were already sealed; Dr. Chakwas kept a close watch on them anyway. Williams might be a problem, but he had already come up with a way to keep her occupied – if she wasn't a Cerberus target. Right now, they were operating as though she was; he'd keep it that way until he had intel that told him otherwise.

"Admiral, you have an incoming call," Joe's disembodied voice interrupted his train of thought and he looked at the clock.

"Take a message," he said, "I can't keep the Joint Chiefs waiting any longer."


	8. Imbroglio

**Imbroglio**

**

* * *

**

**Milgrom Interstellar Space Port – Terminal B, Bekenstein, Boltzmann System  
****December 20, 2183**  


* * *

Dr. Piotr Boaz stepped out of the airlock with the rest of the passengers of interstellar flight 6732, giving one last stretch of his back and neck. Traveling first-class had its advantages. The long flight from the Widow mass relay had given him a serious case of space lag; had it not been for the onboard recreational room, his muscles would have cramped up the second day of interstellar flight. He was among the few passengers who could afford the first class accommodations instead of the coach-class cryo-stasis.

He checked in with customs and collected his bag at the terminal. He would be meeting his contact later that evening to collect the necessary systems needed to remove and install surveillance, and wanted to grab a bite to eat before doing so. Dr. Chakwas had recommended a diner just outside the space port.

No one other than the Illusive Man and several top Alliance officials knew he had left Arcturus for the safe house just outside Milgrom's sprawling city limits. There was no need to draw attention to the doctor by providing an armed guard, and it made meeting his Cerberus contact easier. And not even the Illusive Man knew the co-ordinates of the safe house. He was supposed to get those upon arriving, but they had yet to come over his omni-tool.

Dr. Boaz approached the quaint little hub and perused the menu to find an array of interesting dishes. The restaurant served a mixture of Thai, asari and vol dishes with dextro-amino versions for its turian patrons. The dishes took advantage of the human-grown cilantro; vol-grown urchu root, adding a bitter but spicy flavor; and the asari-grown salstas, adding a robust oaky spice. Vol and human dancers entertained guests while an all asari band performed folk music ranging from Thai to vol tribal dance to asari electro funk improvisation.

The exact co-ordinates came over the secure text messaging program on his omni-tool as he finished his meal, taste-buds tingling while he dabbed his mouth with a colorful napkin.

He downloaded the co-ordinates, paid his bill and left the diner, feeling alert and somewhat euphoric from the hallucinogenic urchu root. As the taxi began its ascent into traffic, his thoughts focused on Operative Chambers. He hoped that she would arrive in time for him to give her the final dose of medication. Her last DNA scans had vexed him. The virions should not have been evolving at such a rapid rate – it was only a matter of time that they would no longer be viable against the intended target and instead cause an epidemic. The Illusive Man had made it clear that creating an epidemic would complicate things – what things, Piotr wasn't sure, but he didn't wish to find out. Angering the Illusive Man was not healthy. Many operatives had disappeared at the Illusive Man's whim due to failed missions.

Placing the thoughts of the Illusive Man's chief enforcer aside, Piotr knew that if he gave Ms. Chambers the neuraminidase inhibitor he kept in the small black case in his bag, then the problem would be solved somewhat, but he was loathe to do that. Inhibiting the neuraminidase proteins would keep the virus from replicating and thus prohibit the gene therapy from occurring. Chambers' anti-bodies were already posing a problem – in fact, he suspected it to be the chief problem; however, any further suppression of her immune system would draw unwanted attention.

He shook his head. This dilemma was better suited for a microbiologist. He was a surgeon who specialized in nanology and neurology, not viruses.

The taxi stopped before a plain but quaint home nestled in a thicket of strange-looking trees. He assumed they were trees – he had no other definition for them. Tall plants seemed too vague a description. The stalks were no bigger round than he was and covered with what resembled dark-brown, mottled bark, like earth trees. The trees had yellowish, needle-like leaves situated at the tops of their tall stalks. The more he looked at them, the more he was reminded of cotton swabs. Yellow and brown cotton swabs…

He put the thoughts aside as the taxi touched down and the door opened automatically, swinging out and up. The air, different from the recycled air of Arcturus and less metallic than the space port, smelled faintly of what reminded him of lemon balm and lavender.

Piotr grabbed his bag, mind wandering to the conversation he and Chambers had had days ago before he'd booked his flight, but stopped mid-thought when he turned around, his gaze falling on a large man in armor who was making his way toward him.

Swallowing the sudden fear to flee, Piotr took note of the man's relaxed gait, the hodge-podge armor, and the multiple tattoos on the exposed right arm, the great scar ringing the side of his age-lined face. The doctor recognized the cheap ocular implant replacing the man's right eye – a vol creation.

"Hello," Piotr greeted, his leg twitching from nerves. "You must be—"

The words stopped in his throat as the stranger pulled his weapon, fired two consecutive shots. Instant pain, sudden darkness, the doctor was dead before he hit the ground.

* * *

**Boötis Medical Center, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System  
****December 20, 2183**

* * *

Joker awoke slowly, his head foggy and pounding, his mouth paper-dry. A shrill ringing resounded in his ears, his skull. It hurt to breathe, to move, to think. He tried to swallow; his throat ached with the effort.

Eyelids slipped closed, screwed shut a moment, and opened again to reveal green pupils against bluish-tented whites, the sclera of his eyes having long ago transformed by his body's inability to produce the proper amounts of collagen.

Something was on his hand. The pressure was uncomfortable, but it was warm, almost soothing, like someone was holding his hand. _Mom?_

He breathed a deep shuttering breath. The pressure eased. Blurry sounds ranging from high-pitched tones to softer, huskier ones assailed his ears. Momentary panic increased his pulse – he'd had the corrective surgery when he entered the military, he thought; he wasn't supposed to go deaf now; they'd fixed it and promised him… wasn't supposed to… promised him… promised…

As he tilted his head, spikes of pain lanced through his neck, his skull, down his spine. Joker let out a grunt, the shrill ringing growing louder in his ears. It would be so easy to just _let go._ Just sleep and never get up again.

A blink. There were figures in the room, lights, blurred images that moved, danced to-and-fro – dark eyes, genial lips turned into a frown. The uncomfortable pressure was back on his hand. It was warm.

Another blink. The room faded to gray. To black. The images were gone; the pressure remained, then that, too, began to fade.

"We're losing him," a voice said, high-pitched, concerned... an annoying buzz on his already overloaded senses. It jolted him back once more, and he opened his eyes once again. The world went from black to gray to colorful and blurred. A blink, then two. A breath of air left him as the intensity of the pressure overwhelmed him. The dark eyes were still on him, closer this time – the fringe of her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. _Ashley?_

"Don't you dare leave me, Moreau." A warning.

The world grayed out a final time. His eyelids slipped closed again, and he heard no more.

* * *

**[Data Corrupted], [Retracted], [Entry Error]  
****[Date Stamp Corrupted]**

* * *

01:26: [m3rcbntyhntR.0001 has logged on]

01:27: [opkech02 has logged on]

01:27: M: It's done.

01:27: [tissue sample uploaded. . . . ]

01:28: [tissue sample logged. . . . approved. . . . waiting for DNA match. . . .]

01:28: [scan for DNA match. . . . matched. . . .]

01:29: [cellular death logged. . . . awaiting approval. . . .]

01:29: [service invoice #8993233 uploaded]

01:30: [cellular death identified. . . . approved. . . .]

01:30: [ePayMe! data packet received from opkech02. . . .]

01:30: [transfer in progress. . . . ]

01:31: [please wait. . . .]

01:33: [transfer in progress. . . .]

01:34: [please wait. . . .]

01:37: [transfer complete. . . .]

01:37: [Sum of 67,389 credits has been deposited to your account number 78883XX-XX-33-XX!]

01:37: [Thank you for using ePayMe! Your Creds in Real Time, Today!]

01:37: M: Got anything else?

01:38: O: I'll be in touch.

01:38: [opkech02 has logged out]

01:38: M: It's been a pleasure.

01:38: [opkech02 has already logged out of this session. Would you like to send user an e-mail?]

01:39: [m3rcbntyhntR.0001 has logged out]


	9. Slow Burn

**Slow Burn**

**

* * *

**

**Boötis Medical Center, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System  
****December 21, 2183**

* * *

Ashley awoke with a start, her senses on alert, but consciousness trailed in the wake. She felt achy and exhausted, wanted nothing more than to return to her slumber. There was something heavy and hot in her hair, cupping the back of her head. The room was dark save the flickers of light of Joker's life support system. The ventilator forced air into his lungs – the hum of the machine blended with his raspy breathing and co-mingled with the electronic beeps of the AutoArt.

She'd fallen asleep over the side of Joker's hospital bed, her head on her arms. Her fingers were numb, her arms throbbed painfully, and her mouth felt like she'd eaten a towel. By the wetness on her arm, she realized in embarrassment where all her saliva had gone.

Ashley drew in a deep breath as she stirred, stretched her back and turned her head, rubbing the drool off her cheek as she did so. Joker's hand was buried in her hair. She became fully aware as she looked up at him. Green eyes stared back. _Oh, thank God!_ Her lips trembled into a smile of relief.

Joker's heart had flat-lined three times in the last seventy-two hours. Doctors and nurses had flooded the room each time, crowding her out. Only this last time had she barged in and pleaded with him to hang on, never letting go of his hand until they forced her away to shock his heart.

"Hey, Doll," he said in a broken whisper, moving his fingers through her hair.

Williamses don't cry, she reminded herself when her vision blurred and her smile faltered. She blinked rapidly and looked away trying to swallow the lump that lingered in her throat at the sight of Joker's opened eyes. Shadows lined his face as the blue, red and gold lights flickered against the darkness of the room. He massaged her scalp then flicked at the tangled strands between his fingers. She took comfort in the gesture, thanking God that he was awake, alive.

"Hey." She looked back at him, her heart in her throat. "You're awake."

"Really?" he asked, still hoarse. " Huh. Would never have noticed."

"You're something else," she murmured, half laughing half crying with relief.

He gave her a cheeky grin, rubbed her head again – it was almost a caress, like he needed the comfort as much as she did.

"Water?" she offered, sitting up. His hand slipped through the strands of dark hair to give a gentle tug on her ear, then down and lingered on her bare shoulder. His fingertips trailed down her arm weaving cobwebs of electricity. She shuddered at his touch, gooseflesh appearing, and carefully pulled her arm away before his fingers landed in her drool. That would have been too embarrassing for words.

He nodded, gave a pained wince, and the heart monitor kicked up as he tensed.

She gazed at the AutoArt's read-out, and he turned his head to look at the machine. "Joker?" She wiped her arm on her tank top as inconspicuously as she could.

"Ow," he admitted as his breathing and blood pressure returned to what the AutoArt determined an acceptable level. She rose to her feet, flipping her hair over her shoulders, walked to the lav where she found a plastic cup, and turned on the spigot. Her back ached between her shoulder blades from falling asleep at such an odd angle. Filling the cup, she returned to Joker's side.

"It's nice to wake up to bare skin," he commented hoarsely, an eyebrow lifted in marked interest, surprising the hell out of her. "Awesome."

She tossed her head and put a defiant hand on her hip as his gaze raked across the bare skin of her shoulders, arms and legs. He appraised her white and pink tank top and pink shorts she had thrown on for bed. She tried to assess his unreadable features. The way he looked at her made her feel too exposed, her stomach clenching.

She cocked her head to the side. "Just how high are you?" she asked him, and his wide grin affirmed the answer.

"Floatin' in heaven right now," he croaked. "Wish it didn't hurt so much."

She shook her head sadly, sagging a bit in relief. A piece of her wished the attraction was real and not drug-induced, but she quickly put that thought aside. Kaidan's attraction had been real, and he was dead. She didn't need any more baggage. Regs. They were there for a reason.

"I'm not your two-ten-two, Lieutenant Moreau," she growled, and he frowned.

"You've always been at least an eight," he told her like she should already know.

She bristled, her pride insulted. _An eight?_ She knew she wasn't drop-dead gorgeous, but being put on the number scale stung for some reason. Her nostrils flared.

"I need to adjust the bed so you can drink this without inhaling it," she told him setting the cup down on the bedside table. Served him right if she doused him with it. _Bastard._ He gave a nod of consent, and she went about adjusting top of the mattress to raise his torso. After a few attempts, a few curses from him, and adjusting the pillows so they distributed his weight properly, she had him sitting upright.

She gave him the cup as she sat on the bed near his thigh and watched the cup wobble in his hand as he brought it to his lips. She wondered if it was from fatigue or if the doctors' worries of his loss of muscle mass had come to pass. He gulped the liquid as soon as it reached his lips, seemingly unaware that it was running through his beard and dripping off the curly dark hair of his chin.

"I should call Dr. Chakwas," she told him, absently blotting his mouth and chin with his sheet. "She needs to know you're awake."

"I'm tired," he said as he handed the cup back to her, stronger this time. His fingers brushed hers. "Think I'll go back to sleep."

She swallowed as she watched his eyelids droop. "Promise me you'll wake back up again," she blurted before she could stop herself.

"Promise me you'll be here," was his response, meeting her stare with one of his own.

"Deal." She offered her hand to shake. He looked at it enigmatically before taking it, his hand smooth and warm.

"Deal," he agreed and brought her hand to his lips, kissing her palm, then her wrist, a burning look in his eyes holding her still. His lips were soft, moist; his beard was coarse under her fingertips. She sucked in a breath, her blood igniting. But before she could say anything, he released her, his eyes slipping closed. Joker's breathing evened out as sleep claimed him.

* * *

_**Two-Ten-Two**__ – a female crew member, aboard a ship with a much higher percentage of males, who would normally be considered unattractive ashore, but gains attractiveness during deployment due to limited choices and goes back to being considered unattractive when the cruise is over_


	10. Casus Belli

**Casus Belli**

**

* * *

**

****

**Commandant's Chambers, Hades Station, [Data Corrupted]  
****December 21, 2183**

* * *

The Illusive Man read over Operative Chambers written report, a frown forming on his face. Losing Moreau would have been a serious setback. Until they could field test the viability of the bone weave technology in the field, and on a live human body – not a cadaver or an alien – he didn't feel comfortable using it for Shepard's reconstruction. Moreau was the best candidate because of his bones fragility. Vrolik was so rare that searching for another candidate would cost too much time. Shepard's body was still a corpse in cryo-stasis and no where near the viability they were expecting when Dr. T'Soni handed it over to them. Vacuum exposure had seemingly damaged the body more than they had initially realized.

Of course, Cerberus would never have had to resort to using Moreau to begin with had Rear Admiral Kahoku not investigated Banes death. They had already had a viable candidate and had successfully injected the nanites at the Ontarom facility. The Illusive Man shook his head at that. _Banes._ His extortion racket on the side of Project Sandworm had cost Banes his life and exposed the entire military arm and part of the scientific arm to the Alliance. It was unfortunate that Kahoku had gotten a message out to Commander Shepard. Had Kahoku not gotten to her, then she would not have raided the military bases and Corporal Toombs would not have escaped. Toombs wouldn't have been able to seek revenge, and the original Lazarus cell wouldn't have been taken out by Toombs' mercenary squad. The whole fiasco had fallen like dominoes because of one man's greed.

Cerberus had lost a lot of time, money and valuable data to Banes' mistake.

Illusive Man lit a cigarette, his fifth for the day, and welcomed the soothing effects his smoking vice had on his mood. His eyes read over Chambers report once again, and he took note of the fact that Boaz had given her one dosage of medication. He called up Boaz's last report. The comm stamp indicated that Boaz had sent it while he was in transit to Bekenstein.

Boaz was supposed to check in with Operative Pritchard nearly fourteen hours ago. So far, no word. Cerberus had traced Boaz's passport and credit chit. The doctor had arrived on Bekenstein sixteen hours ago, passed through customs, ate and rented a taxi. Then nothing. The taxi had not returned to its station to download its fare meter – or its GPS information. They still had no set data on where the Alliance safe house was located. Its location was not stored in any database system Cerberus had access to.

According to Boaz's report, Chambers' medication didn't affect the vector virus at all. It only relieved her more prohibitive symptoms – such as fever, cough and muscle aches. The virus would actively begin to infect others if they did not administer the antiviral medication developed to kill it. Again, the doctor gave the estimation of the end of the year. The news was troubling. Chambers would need to be put down if Boaz couldn't control the virus or who it infected. Although the Illusive Man valued her as an operative - she had never failed him - he didn't want anything else to be led to Cerberus' front door. There was too much at stake, especially now that he had confirmed that the Shadow Broker was involved somehow with the Collectors.

It was also troubling that Boaz hadn't checked in. The Illusive Man didn't like to be kept in the dark. It made him nervous. Something was wrong. He didn't know what, but he knew that he wouldn't like it.

* * *

**Boötis Medical Center, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System  
****December 23, 2183**

**

* * *

**

Joker had been out of the red for two days when they – who decided he had no idea – shipped his ass out of CritCare and to the rehabilitation center a few floors down, where he'd been told his PT would begin. He wiggled his toes under the blanket, pleased his body no longer ached all over from the nanites building structures against his bones to keep them from breaking.

That thought sent a thrill down his spine. He wouldn't have to worry about falling and a wayward fractured bone puncturing something vital. Falling had been a constant fear – one that he made sure no one knew about by making it abundantly clear that Joker didn't need help. He had worked – and continued to work – his ass off proving himself to everyone around him.

He set his chin in determination. _I'm getting out of here._

He tossed off the hospital bed blankets and looked at his legs sticking from out of the hospital gown: Pale, thin, hairy with a myriad of scars from surgeries over the years. There were calluses on each side of his ankles and knees from his braces. Each foot sported new scars from the ports imbedded and removed for the bone weave nanites.

He began a small regimen of stretches. The only way to get out was to walk out. And he was determined to do it - in less time it took _normal_ people.

_I'm gonna walk again._

He could walk with help – meaning someone, so far Ashley or the nearest orderly, had to physically support him; he hadn't been gifted with crutches or a braces for his ankle and knees yet. It was usually to get him to the bathroom – he refused to wear a damn diaper for any longer than he had to; he was done with that humiliation – but earlier that morning, Ashley helped him to the window so he could look out and watch the ships come in.

He had no idea what had possessed him to suggest it. It had been such a mistake. He'd made a flirtatious comment to rile her – she always had the best reactions – and she'd gotten all flustered. Then she'd surprised the hell out him by all but fleeing the room after she got him back to bed, saying she had last minute Christmas shopping to do.

As much as he hated to admit it, her abrupt departure hurt. Shopping over spending time with him? Rejection was something he had thought he built up a callus to. Sex was never that easy with his condition – and thinking about Ashley that way made him hot and damned uncomfortable at the same time. She was someone he trusted. _Like Beck._ But Ash's reaction wasn't something that he'd expected from her. Especially since she was a friend who knew exactly what his condition was and what his limitations were. He was fragile. Of the crew, only she, Dr. Chakwas, Commander Shepard and Alenko knew exactly how fragile. And Joker wished Alenko hadn't found out, but the biotic was one of Dr. Chakwas assistants, so it was only a matter of time before Alenko had thrown a bunch of questions his way. The void was still there from Alenko's death. Ashley and the salarian team had come first. Joker could only get the Normandy to one location in time, and he'd been closer to the AA tower when Alenko set the timer.

Joker began another series of stretches as he thought about Ashley. He knew she cared about him. Even before, on the Normandy. She was one of the few people who accepted his smart mouth with one of her own. And he liked it. She gave as good as she got. Ash was supportive too - not something he expected when he first met her. Hell, she'd been here since he'd awakened last month. And again when he'd awakened from the surgery. He'd been drawn to put his hand in hair as she slept just to remind himself he was alive. As he did a few experimental leg lifts, he recalled the silkiness of her hair on his fingertips.

Guilt weighed heavily on him. She didn't have to sit with him. She didn't need to be hampered by someone like him. Joker was glad for her company; having someone to talk to was refreshing. He just hoped he hadn't scared her off because of his disease.

_Nothing says "confidence destroyer" like getting your CO spaced_, he thought morbidly as he tried to do a few sit-ups.

He was in mid sit-up when Kelly Chambers entered wearing a grin and a dark-green bodysuit that plunged in the front, enhancing the transluscence of her skin and clung to all her curves, igniting Joker's blood.

"How are we today?" she greeted, her pleasant voice cheerful and bubbly.

He swallowed as his eyes travelled down her lithe body.

_Damn_.

* * *

**Boötis Medical Center, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System  
****December 23, 2183**

* * *

Ashley nodded to the guard posted outside the door as she entered Joker's hospital room. She was glad they moved Moreau to the rehab floor. His room was easier to get to now. But that wasn't the only reason. He was finally cleared and out of the red! In the past week since his agreeing to the surgery, the stress was enough to give her gray hairs.

At least he appeared to be recovering quickly. Dr. Chakwas had confided earlier that day that she'd never seen such recovery time and attributed it to the 'bone weave' and the fact that it pumped medi-gel directly into his system. Ashley hadn't understood. The whole procedure was above her pay grade.

"_Doesn't medi-gel, you know, _harden_?" _she had asked.

Dr. Chakwas had chuckled._ "Only the topical version. Subcutaneous medi-gel increases cell communication to speed up the inflammatory process and reduce healing time." _The doctor had shaken her head at that. _"I sound like a damn Sirta Foundation infomercial."_

Ashley stopped in her tracks, mind benumbed, at the sight of the red head, the physical therapist – whatever her name was – hanging over Joker's bed in the tightest clothing Ash had ever seen a physical therapist wear.

_What the hell? _

Just what kind of _physical therapy_ was she providing?

With silly grin on her face and her boobs all but hanging out of the top, the woman was feeding him red gelatin, and Joker was smiling in return accepting each spoonful like an infant in highchair. Ash looked away hastily, chastising herself for the sudden spike of jealousy. It shouldn't bother her. Joker had a way with women. She'd never met someone so confident - most of the time in bordered on arrogance, but still. She moved restlessly into the room, nodding to Joker who raised an eyebrow to her.

She tossed her shopping bag onto her cot, surreptitiously ignoring the red head as she cooed to Joker, and he let her put the spoon in his mouth again. Ashley felt her temper rise in response, and she did her best to quell it.

_I don't care. I don't care. I don't care._

"Have fun Christmas shopping, Doll?" Joker asked, interrupting her mantra.

"Yep," she replied, snagging her datapad to check her e-mail and dropped into the chair furthest from his bed. _Hopefully, Mom picked up her Christmas e-card._ She didn't look up at him.

The red head all but pounced. "Oh! That sounds like fun!"

"Not this close to Christmas," Ash told her. It was the truth. Shopping at Christmastime was the equivalent of going up against two platoons of geth Colossi with only the Mako. "I got you something, Joker, but you have to wait until Christmas to open it."

He gave her a snort like she wouldn't make him wait. _Just you watch, jackass._

"Do you celebrate?" the woman asked. Covertly, Ashley watched as she smiled again at Joker as he took another bite of the gelatin. He was enjoying getting fed a little too much.

Ash nodded, but said nothing, her blood boiling. It was the _Normandy_ all over again.

_Damn it._

She was an adult, not some lovesick teenager! Joker was her friend. _Friend. Friend. Friend._ And there were regs. _Don't forget about those, dumb-ass._ She was a Noncom; he was an Officer. Although she had yet to tell him, she was on duty. Regs were in play here. She didn't have time to be swooning over… over someone she _thought_ gave a damn about her. Apparently, until there was a red head willing to do anything for him.

_Just like the Normandy._

It had especially hurt to catch him and Rebecca Hendricks in the head. The memory of his head thrown back, cap on the floor, and the red head kneeling before him pleasuring him burned Ashley more than she cared to admit.

Thwarted by two red heads in one year – she wondered what she had done to be subjected to this type of torture.

The physical therapist cooed at him a final time, and Ashley's head snapped up angrily. Ash narrowed her eyes at the woman. The therapist was not good for Joker. No way. That was _not_ physical therapy. _That_ was… was…

Ashley had to take calming breaths.

Besides, it was Ashley's duty to protect him. Even from_ her_.

* * *

_**Casus belli** – an event or political occurrence that brings about a declaration of war_

_(Used way out of context, but the definition was the inspiration for the chapter.)_

_Comments welcomed._


	11. Fragile

_Sorry for my tardiness with this one. Middle-of-the-road chapters vex me so. Enjoy!_

* * *

**Fragile**

**

* * *

**

****

**Bootis Medical Center, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System  
****December 23, 2183**

* * *

Kelly concealed a grin, controlling her features, feigning concern. She made no move, watched as events fell perfectly into place. The Admiral's timing couldn't have been more perfect. Absently she wondered if the timing was planned it was so right.

A pain squeezed her heart as she looked at the dismay written clearly over Jeff's face. He looked like a man who had just lost his only friend. Kelly supposed that was true. She watched him struggle as the Admiral began to speak again.

"Wait, sir," Jeff said, holding up a hand, confusion clearly written on his face. He met Kelly's concerned gaze momentarily as though trying to draw strength from her and all pleasure from the Admiral's words left her. She felt nothing but heart-ache for him.

_He really cared for the woman I look like_, she realized with a pang.

When he turned back, his glare was ice-cold, and his voice was venomous. It was all directed at Williams. "You didn't say anything about being _assigned_ my goddamn _babysitter_. What was all that talk about having no other place to stay while everything blew over?" He crossed his arms over his chest, pinning her with his stare. "I _trusted_ you, Williams."

Admiral Hackett lifted a brow to Williams.

"I felt it was in his best interest to be kept on a Need to Know," she stated calmly, and Jeff looked like she'd winded up and punched him.

Apparently her answer pleased the Admiral, and he gave her a nod and turned back to the man in bed. "Operations Chief Williams' current mission is to oversee your protection." It was a rephrase of his statement from moments before. "This is a need to know operation."

Jeff indicated Kelly with his thumb, and she tensed, not knowing why he was bringing her into it. Her lips thinned in irritation. This was not the way it was supposed to be happening. Just because Williams formed mistrust, didn't mean that he couldn't trust Kelly too. She'd been nothing but nice to him and Kelly _thought_ she had been making ground with him.

"She checks out," the Admiral said, and it was all Kelly could do to keep from sagging in relief. _Thank God for Cerberus and its connections._ "Ms. Chambers will be accompanying you, Operations Chief Williams and Dr. Chakwas to a safe house on Bekenstein, where you will complete your physical therapy. Dr. Boaz should already be there making sure all the equipment is working." He handed an OSD to Williams. "Do not activate this disc until you get there. Do not give it to anyone, let anyone scan it or transmit the codes to anyone."

"Yes, sir," Williams said and pocketed the OSD. Kelly narrowed her eyes. Whatever was on that disc, Cerberus needed; she was sure of it.

"What's that?" Kelly asked, relaxing her features again.

"Need to Know," the Admiral told her, his mouth setting in a thin line.

Kelly cocked her head to the side, feigning confusion. "I'm sorry," she apologized, "but I thought I checked out." She shook her head. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at this military stuff. I didn't mean to do anything wrong."

The Admiral nodded, but didn't answer her initial question. _Damn it_.

"What do I do at the safe house, sir?" Jeff asked suddenly.

The Admiral turned his gaze onto the helmsman. "Lay low and recover."

"You're grounding me." It was a few beats later that he added, "Sir."

"No, but you aren't in any condition to pilot a craft."

"With respect, sir, I don't fly with my feet."

"I've already given you your orders, Lieutenant." Hackett dismissed him with a look and Jeff wedged himself against the pillows at his back. Turning to Williams, Hackett said, "Your flight to Bekenstein leaves in four hours. You'll be taking a civilian vessel."

Williams blinked at that. Kelly listened intently. She'd never been in on top-secret Alliance missions before – well, not any that they would approve of anyway.

"_MSV Texas Rose_," the Admiral said. "Docking Bay 117-A. The captain is a man by the name of Alexander Sheridan. His first mate is his son, John. Go stow your gear and come back in three hours. Internal Affairs should be done questioning Lieutenant Moreau by then."

Kelly watched as Jeff shrank back a little at the mention of Internal Affairs. Williams didn't appear to notice, but she had been covertly watching him. She saluted her superior, grabbed her bag and left, blatantly ignoring Jeff's look of cold fury.

The Admiral turned to Kelly. "Ms. Chambers, you'll need to pack so you can be ready," he said. She got the message: _Leave now_.

She gave him a bright, million-credit smile. "Of course!" She turned to Jeff, who looked like a lost little puppy who had recently been kicked. She wanted to pick him up and hug him and squeeze him until his smile returned – she'd been privy to his smile and had enjoyed it immensely.

"I'll see you on the ship, Jeff," she cooed to him, running her fingers through his hair, trailing a practiced finger down his face and into his beard. She gave him a kiss on the forehead, noticing when he inhaled her scent. Kelly smiled against his face.

"Everything will be alright," she told him quietly, brushing her fingers through his hair again, and then she straightened and sauntered out of the room.

Joker watched Kelly go, her scent and the feel of her soft lips against his brow lingering. He felt sick, confused. Why did Ashley…? Why didn't she…? For a brief instant, a rush of hurt and betrayal choked him. It was all he could do to sit there and breathe. Ashley hadn't stuck around for him. She didn't give two shits about him. _Just like _everyone_ else._ He was a fucking cripple after all. Why the hell would she care? Shepard and Beck were the only two who really cared about him, and they were _dead_. _Because of me._

He didn't know who he was angrier with: Ashley – _Williams_ – for lying to him, Admiral Hackett for giving her the order, or himself for letting his damn guard down. He'd known something was up, but it never really registered that Williams would lie to him and to his face to boot. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he seethed.

"You want to ask me about the attack," he said, setting aside his pain and fury. It wasn't a question, but the Admiral nodded like it had been.

"I have a man coming from Internal Affairs to take your statement, but you'll tell me first and I'll go over what it is you're to tell him."

Joker swallowed, his heart sinking further. _A fucking cover up._ He looked his hands, then set his jaw and looked Admiral Hackett in the eye. "I'm not going to cover anything up, sir."

* * *

**Docking Bay 117-A – **_**MSV Texas Rose**_**, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System  
****December 23, 2183**

* * *

The _MSV Texas Rose_ was a Kowloon-class freighter with only four modules in addition to its cargo bay. Compared to some of the other Kowloon-class freighters Ashley had seen, this one was tiny. She shuddered as she remembered the one on Feros and the derelict full of husks they had found in the Maroon Sea.

The_ Rose_'s cargo bay was full-to-busting and overflowing into two of the modules.

"Medical equipment, supplies in those crates," Captain Sheridan told her then gestured for her to follow. The remaining modules were used for the crew. The module on the portside was the crew quarters; it held six bunks, six lockers, a small head and a mess table and chairs. The starboard side module had recreational equipment, another head and a small galley. There were more crates stacked on the far side, too.

Captain Sheridan and his son were portly, hardy folk from New Canton. The older Sheridan had a wealth of salt and pepper hair that hung to his wide shoulders with a shiny bald spot on top and jovial brown eyes. The younger Sheridan was a spitting image of his father minus the bald spot and graying hair. At least Ashley would be able to tell them apart.

After the short tour, she chose a locker and stowed her gear, shaking her head as she did so. Shaking her head did nothing to relieve the look of shocked hurt on Joker's face that had implanted itself so forcefully into her brain. Ashley sat heavily on one of the tiny chairs, its seat groaning under her weight.

It was for his own good, she reasoned. The Alliance was trying to protect him and stop any leaks._ I had orders. It was Need to Know._ The reasons didn't help her to feel any better about the situation.

"_I trusted you, Williams."_

Those words hurt. _This_ was why there were Regs against fraternization. This was why you didn't fall in love.

She froze, her mind reeling. _No. Oh, no. Please, dear God. Anything but _that. It was just hormones. Joker was a friend. Friend. _Friend, friend, friend._ Well, now he hated her guts, so he wasn't really anything at all. Just another mission. She hadn't gotten laid since… well, since the LT had cornered her during a short liberty on the Citadel. She would never think of the men's room – Shepard was guaranteed not to catch them in there – at Flux the same way again. And she'd only agreed because, well, it had been awhile; she'd never actively pursued a higher-ranking – much less a _commissioned_ – officer; and she had recently discovered Joker and Hendricks in the head. Stress relief.

"_I don't regret a thing."_

_That_ was why there were Regs. Sometimes in order to save the team, someone had to stay behind. She still felt guilty for using the LT the way she had. She still didn't know why Shepard made the call the way she did. But she had been meaning to tell him that she didn't want anythng more than friendship.

Ash ran her hands through her hair, pulling at the tail at the back of her head, letting out a long breath. She wished the Skipper were here. Shepard would know what to do. Ashley put her hand in her pocket, ran her fingers along the OSD labeled _bek.90210 – jrpg.33811 – safehouseGPS_.

"_I trusted you, Williams."_

She shook her head again and stood, boots heavy on the deck, and resolved to do her job. Cerberus wanted Joker dead_. Not on my watch._ He'd get over it. He had to. She had a damn job to do. There was no turning back now.

* * *

**[Data Corrupted], [Retracted], [Unknown Entry]  
****[Date Retracted]**

* * *

16:34: [vsantiagoBlue has logged in]

16:34: [opkech02 has logged in]

16:35: O: Leave the red head alive. Do what you will with the rest. You'll receive payment once she arrives at the pre-arranged co-ordinates on Citadel Station as per our agreement. Councilor Anderson's aide is awaiting her.

16:35: V: Will do.

16:35: O: Tell your men to not expose themselves to her. The virus she carries might possibly be infectious by the time they arrive at the Bekenstein house.

16:36: V: Noted. Do we need to take care of the Alliance surgeon, too?

16:36: O: No. [Name retracted] wished to use another source. Massani has already handled that particular transaction.

16:36: O: [Uploading file: bek.90210 – jrpg.33811 – safehouseGPS]

16:37: V: A pleasure as always. Give your boss our regards.

16:37: [opkech02 has logged out]

16:37: [vsantiagoBlue has logged out]


	12. Sunny with a Chance of Guns

_Geologists, surveyors, other professionals who deal with GPS data (I know you're out there): I apologize in advance for the co-ordinate system. It sounded good. It's the future, damn it. Embrace Eternity. :p Or, you know, suspend your disbelief. Please._

_**Edit:** due to spellcheck FAIL and my lack of sleep, Joker's face is no longer flushed from **excursion**. -facepalm-_

_

* * *

_

**Sunny with a Chance of Guns**

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* * *

**

_**MSV Texas Rose**_**– In Transit, Serpent Nebula  
****December 25, 2183**

**

* * *

**Joker didn't talk to Ashley at all the first two days of transit. He barely even looked at her. The Sheridans made themselves scarce, keeping to the cockpit and rec room. Dr. Chakwas kept herself busy by either using the rec room or cooking. (It was surprisingly good considering the rations she had to work with.) Kelly was up everyone's ass constantly. It took most of Ashley's willpower to speak to the woman in a civil tone.

Ashley walked into the crew quarters to find Joker shirtless and doing sit-ups on the deck. His face was flushed from exertion. The redness traveled down his neck and across his shoulders. His torso was skinny and as pale as his arms. Dark hair curled in a diamond pattern across his sternum and chest and trailed down to the drawstring sweatpants that rode low on his hips. The Christmas gift she'd given him earlier lay neglected and unopened by his side.

"Are you even going to open it?" she asked, picking up the long box off the floor and waving it at him.

"I don't celebrate," he said gruffly, still not looking at her, and did another sit-up.

At that moment, Kelly came in with a tray of food. Dr. Chakwas must have been bored again. "How's my favorite man in the galaxy?" she asked jovially as she set the tray on the small table in near the back of the compartment. He stopped mid-sit up and looked at her, eying her speculatively and cursing quietly.

"I don't want to talk to you either," he said after staring at the physical therapist a few seconds. Then he went back to doing sit-ups.

Ashley nearly punched the woman when Kelly cast a nasty glare in her direction. _Oh, no, she didn't!_

"Don't look at me like that," Ash warned, putting her hands on her hips, "It's not my fault he's being melodramatic."

Kelly opened her mouth to argue.

"As much as I love a good cat fight," Joker said, adjusting his rep so that as he did a sit-up he twisted so his elbow touched his knee. He grunted with the effort. "I really don't want to hear it today." He did another, this time with his opposite elbow to his knee. "It's only fun if there's mud. I don't see any mud. Not a good day for a cat fight." He lay back, clearly in pain.

Kelly stepped forward, concern on her face, and Joker shot her a warning glare. "I've been through enough physical therapy to know what I'm doing, Chambers. Back off."

She looked hurt, and Joker's eyes softened a little. Irritation shot through Ashley. The little bitch was manipulating him! As if coming to the same conclusion – with a twist of guilt, Ashley realized it was because of her dishonesty – his expression changed back into a heated glare. Then he did another twisting sit-up.

So far, Dr. Chakwas had said his recovery time was remarkable. His bones had fully healed, though they were still prone to hairline fractures if he wasn't careful. He was able to go short distances – like raiding the galley at o'dark thirty – on crutches and his braces, though Dr. Chakwas had pushed him in a wheelchair to the docking bay. Joker flat-out refused help from anyone but her.

"Joker," Ashley began.

"Joker is grounded," he growled, and flipped to his stomach and tried unsuccessfully to do a full push-up. His arms wobbled as he tried to push his weight up. "I'm Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau." He tried again, grunting with exertion then flopping back down again.

Ashley rolled her eyes. "You aren't grounded, moron. It's only for a little while."

"Yeah?" he grumbled. "You weren't there when they were questioning me."

"What did they have to say?"

He studied her a minute then smiled heartlessly. "Need to Know, Williams." He tried another push up again, arms shaking with effort.

She blinked at him, more than surprised with his animosity. "Touché."

"Weighted exercise first," Kelly told him.

"I'm gonna do at least one damn push-up," he argued from his prone position, adjusting his hands.

"Bend your knees then," she suggested.

He looked up at her, furious. "Fuck you, Chambers."

"I'm only –"

"Arguing with him isn't helping matters, Kelly," Dr. Chakwas voice came from behind them. Ashley turned to see the doctor standing in the doorway, hands on hips, flanked by John Sheridan, who looked bemused with the whole situation.

She walked in slowly, clicked her tongue once, twice. "Kelly, Ashley, let him alone. Jeff, if you hurt yourself, I'll sedate you for the rest of the journey." Joker blanched. "Now, your food is getting cold." She looked around. "Ladies," she warned.

Ashley knew the doctor well enough to know that tone. Chakwas was pretty damn close to sedating everyone in order to keep the peace. She walked to the door as Dr. Chakwas was helping Joker to his feet, already barking orders at him. "After your food digests: treadmill. Twenty minutes. If that doesn't exhaust you: ten minutes on the bike, five minutes on the stairs." Ashley left the room lest she get saddled with push-ups, boot-camp style.

* * *

**Milgrom Interstellar Space Port – Terminal G/Docking Bay 452, Bekenstein, Boltzmann System  
December 26, 2183**

**

* * *

**Joker did a double-take when Williams stepped out of the head. His eyes travelled down the black, ballistic-cloth bodysuit that hugged her frame as she walked over to her designated locker and pulled out her bag. She shrugged into a harness that hummed when she activated it, a kinetic barrier briefly glowed violet before disappearing.

"What's that?" Kelly asked, a puzzled expression on her pretty face.

"Colossus mainframe computer," Williams answered. "It manages the suit's self-healing system and shields." She flipped on the shields with a flick of her wrist. Thrumming to life, the shields appeared over her head in the form of a helmet and over her torso, shoulders and arms, and thighs.

Kelly looked worried. "Do you think we'll run into any trouble?"

"I'm not taking any chances." Williams deactivated the shields and handed another harness to the physical therapist, who, in turn, looked completely mystified as how to activate it. Williams rolled her eyes and activated it with her omni-tool. "You're not in armor, so it will only generate shields. It won't produce any synth-skin if a bullet manages to get through."

Dr. Chakwas was wearing one when she entered the room. "You realize you are the only one wearing body armor?" she asked, sounded bemused. "Won't that draw attention?"

Williams shook her head, unrolled a sleeveless plum-colored duster and tossed it on over the black bodysuit. "I won't be wearing any ceramic," she explained. "I'll look like any other tourist." She added a utility belt and attached her pistol to it, concealing it under the duster, then she pulled on her boots and gloves.

"Yeah," Joker spoke up. "You look like a normal tourist whose about to rob a bank."

She looked at him a moment, then rolled her eyes and gave him one too. He shrugged into it, activated it and winked at Kelly. It surprised him that Williams noticed and bristled.

He tried to ignore the weird twisting of his stomach at the sudden thought that maybe Ash – _Williams_ – was thinking about him and Beck on the _Normandy_. She'd caught them after all. He hadn't told her that in less than a week later, he'd walked into Flux's men's room to see her bare legs wrapped around Alenko's waist as the biotic thrust into her. In fact, today was the first time he'd thought about it since Alenko had died on Virmire over seven months ago.

Kelly wasn't Beck. They had similarities, and, yeah, he was a visual person – he was male and loved to look, and in a lot of cases, touch – but he wasn't stupid. He'd been trying to put as much distance between himself and the physical therapist as possible. It hadn't helped that the red head had chosen a bunk just above his and was _bubbly_ in the mornings. _And didn't wear much to bed,_ his brain supplied unhelpfully.

But he wasn't going to sleep with her. He didn't want that complication. Joker shook his head and watched Ashley braid her hair.

"Leave it down," he said and her dark eyes watched him, judging him. He shrugged. It surprised the hell out of him when she did leave it down.

They stepped out of the airlock a little while later, Joker confined to a wheelchair until they reached the taxi hub, and he stood, having enough of the thing. He was walking, damn it. And there wasn't anything they could do to stop him.

"You have the co-ordinates?" he asked Ashley as he limped over to the hub. She nodded and extracted the OSD Hackett had given her from an inner pocket in her duster and inserted it into her omni-tool.

"Two kilometers south of the city," she said, "Z26.874 degrees by F33.798 degrees by A-115.384 degrees, 42 Azimuth, -4 Zenith."

They boarded the taxi when it arrived and Joker entered the co-ordinates. No one argued when he took the driver's seat. The taxi's mass effect field lifted them off and Joker steered it into traffic. It felt so good to be off the ground and behind the helm, even if it were just a stupid taxi. He sighed dramatically.

"Finally."

"What?" Kelly asked from her seat next to him.

He looked over at her and couldn't contain his smile. "Freedom," was all he told her. He turned away when confusion spread into her expression. Beck would have understood.

"Feels good, huh?" Ashley asked.

He nodded, offering her a forgiving smile. "Better than sex."

Kelly giggled musically. "You must not have had the right kind of sex," she said, quirking an eyebrow invitingly, her green eyes flickering with interest.

Joker almost opened his mouth to ask what kind she had to offer, but stopped himself. He wasn't going there. And not with Ashley in the car. Or Dr. Chakwas. But Dr. Chakwas was used to his ways – and giving him meds for P.C.O.D. – he'd served several tours with her.

"None of your business, Chambers," he said as he maneuvered the vehicle out of traffic and let the system take over. Navigating in traffic required a trained eye and hands on the wheel, and on most planets autopilot in traffic was illegal with passengers in the car.

Kelly frowned at him – he hardened his heart against her pout – but she soon found the scenery more compelling than him, and she ooh'ed and ah'ed for a bit before asking, "Does the Alliance own this safe house or is it privately held?"

Ashley answered. "Admiral Hackett said that the safe house was arranged by the Shadow Broker."

Kelly's body went stiff. "The Shadow Broker?" she asked quietly. The aircar was beginning its descent. She reached out and grabbed Joker's arm. A shock of pain went from his wrist to his elbow.

"Watch the arm!" The air car landed, the doors automatically opening.

Kelly didn't flinch, eyes wide with fear. "We need to go back to the Space Port, Jeff," she said, desperation stealing into her voice. "The Shadow Broker can't be trusted. Take us back, Jeff. Please! You have to take us back now!"

"What are you talking about?" Ashley demanded, leaning forward, her hand on the seat next to Joker's ear. "The Shadow Broker's information helped Shepard take down Saren."

Kelly looked agitated, shook her head vehemently. "The Shadow Broker can't be trusted," she insisted.

"You're right," a new, male voice said, and Joker turned his head. The muzzle of an assault rifle whose make he didn't recognize was in his face. The taxi was surrounded by Blue Suns mercenaries.

"Oh, _shit_!"

* * *

_Shirtless Joker was inspired by the sleeping Joker fan art drawn by Zweihand for JokerDay on the masseffect community on LiveJournal. :3_

_**P.C.O.D.**__ – P##sy Cut-Off Date: last day of a long deployment where sailors can still get laid and receive V.D. cures in time for it to be affective when going home to a girlfriend or wife waiting at home_


	13. Spring, Sprang, Sprung

**Chapter 13**

_**Spring, Sprang, Sprung**_

* * *

**Commandant's Chambers, Hades Station, [Data Corrupted]  
****December 26, 2183**

* * *

The Illusive Man breathed a sigh of relief when Chambers' report came though. Perhaps now everything would go according to plan. Her next one was expected tomorrow. She would have the coordinates then.

He took a sip of his bourbon neat then settled back into his seat to read. It was curious that the transmission file size was so small.

Upon opening the file, his eyes widened. The glass in his hand fell, shattering against the harder surface, splashing the thick liquid across the floor and over his shoes.

_Help. Shdw Brkr trap. Bekenstein: 124__° 32.1' -89.1° 75.2934'_

* * *

**Barla Von's Office, Financial District, Citadel Station, Widow System, Serpent Nebula  
****December 26, 2183**

* * *

"Greetings, Councilor."

Anderson nodded as the doors shut behind him. "I have a deposit to make," he said by way of greeting. Idly, he wondered if volus smiled.

Barla Von's office was sparsely decorated with two worn chairs and a modest-sized desk behind which the volus sat. A bank of computers and screens sat behind him – market statistics, news feeds, infomercials, chat feeds – everything the financial expert needed to do his job. The rotund alien gestured for him to sit.

This part of the Financial District hadn't been badly damaged. Funnily enough, it was the area the Keepers had concentrated on first and then had moved on within a matter of days.

"Humanity's mythologies are complex," Barla Von said as Anderson sat. "Cerberus, a three or four headed guardian-beast of the gates of the dead." The volus shook his head. "Humanity is the only species obsessed with death."

The Councilor shrugged and pulled an OSD from his pocket. "Xeltan's files," he said.

The alien blinked at the disk. "Heavy risk," he stated, "especially for a person in your position."

"Do you want it or not?"

"I understand you'll be getting a new aid soon," Barla Von said conversationally as he accepted the disk, sliding it into a slot on his desk. The dead diplomat's extortion and red sand ring - complete with contact information and pictures of the diplomats, ambassadors and duct rats involved - appeared in the air above the desk.

The Councilor raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

The volus gasped for air and then continued on, "I would carefully check his background if I were I you."

"Free information?"

"Free advice," the volus replied. "There's a difference, Councilor."

* * *

**Safehouse, [Co-ordinates deleted], Bekenstein, Boltzmann System  
****December 26, 2183**

* * *

Kelly's hands shook. Hell, her whole body was shaking. And the way Jeff was looking at her… _Such disappointment, disgust even_. She swallowed the dry lump in her throat. Her chest felt heavy; her brain felt cloudy.

Dr. Chakwas was eying her as well. Kelly didn't know what to make of the look. Ashley was glaring at Kelly. If Ashley had pistols for eyes, Kelly would be full of slugs.

_Damn it._

Jeff wet his lips, pink tongue darting out against parched lips. "'Virus?'"

It was the first time he'd said anything since the Blue Suns' captain had told them Kelly was a carrier of a potentially deadly virus, and they were being quarantined until a transport arrived.

This was not going as planned. _Damn the Shadow Broker_. And the Blue Suns weren't interested in anyone but her. Kelly swallowed. _Virus, indeed._

"I'm _not_ a Cerberus operative," she lied again, more emphatically this time. Lying never gained anyone's trust, she thought morosely. Even if it was for the greater good. She brought a shaky hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose, got irritated when she had to bring _both_ hands because of the binding cuffs. Dropping her hands into her lap, she studied everyone's faces again.

Jeff looked either distrustful or constipated. He was a little difficult to read when he became belligerent. And it wasn't as though she could convince him with sex appeal anymore. Apparently he had a thing about cleanliness and germs. She didn't know why she was surprised by that. He didn't like hospitals or doctors. One could deduce that he would be as clean and germ free as possible to avoid unnecessary trips.

Ashley looked angry enough to kill her. Kelly wondered why the marine hadn't yet. She knew basic hand-to-hand but that wasn't going to stop an all out assault by a trained killer.

Dr. Chakwas was unreadable, scrutinizing Kelly. With a start, the red head realized that the doctor was looking for signs of illness – probably out of habit.

_Perfect_. She knew what she had to do.

"I just wanted to be a red head," Kelly offered, doing her best to sound sheepish. "Dr. Boaz helped me. I – I was told it was just a normal procedure."

She swallowed again. The last part was true. It was only supposed to be a mild strain of influenza. _Normal._ But the Illusive Man knew what he was doing. So Cerberus had used a different vector. It was treatable. Yes. They just had to get to Lazarus Station. Miranda would know what to do. Cerberus didn't want Jeff dead. She would have been told. She was a top operative. And the Illusive Man was -

Her train of thought was broken by a sudden cough that rattled the phlegm in her lungs. It suddenly hurt to breathe. The brain fog suddenly made sense. She coughed harder in a fit of panic.

* * *

Joker paled at the sound of Kelly's cough and scooted farther away from her as Dr. Chakwas bent to examine her. His skin crawled. Hackett said Cerberus wanted him dead. Joker was expecting guns and bullets and maybe a car chase. Not _this_.

_Anything but this._

He shook his head. It made sense now. The flirting, the sexy smile… the red hair. Even if she was telling the truth and didn't actually work for Cerberus, the black ops group had still used her to their ends if the Blue Suns were telling the truth. Joker swallowed. The 'Suns had no reason to lie, and not with Dr. Boaz's corpse rotting just outside the door. They were working for the Shadow Broker. The 'Broker wanted that virus inside Kelly. Why the Broker wanted it was anyone's guess.

_Ah, damn it._ Kelly had been all over him, clingy-like. She'd whispered in his ears, kissed his forehead, touched his hands, his shoulders. _Fed_ him. He shuddered, his stomach beginning to roll. She'd almost kissed his mouth a few times, and he might have let her eventually. And gotten the damn virus.

He could have it _now_. The thought didn't sit well with him. The 'Suns were either going to kill them out right or leave them with no transportation to get treatment. And were they to venture back to the city, they could infect the population. How many millions were here?

"God _damn it_," he whispered and scooted farther away. His hip bumped Ashley's. He couldn't go any further. He couldn't get away; he couldn't run; and he couldn't fly. Ashley's hand on his didn't calm him. It made him feel trapped. She'd lied to him too.

_For my fucking protection._

_All women are liars_, his mind declared in a moment close to panic. Except Shepard when she wasn't playing poker (_the only time she was any good at bluffing_), and Beck when she was being nice (_which was all kinds of creepy_). And maybe – _just maybe_ – Dr. Chakwas. Except when the doctor wanted to stick him with needles (_she always make up shit to get me into the infirmary and undressed_) or when she was playing poker. Dr. Chakwas was almost as good as Shepard at bluffing. But Beck and Shepard were dead and that left just Dr. Chakwas and Ash.

_Nope. All women are liars._

* * *

Ash did a double take at Joker's declaration. _Did he-? Oh hell no._ She had to breathe out of her nose and tightly clamp her mouth shut in order to keep from yelling at him.

"Not all of us are liars," Dr. Chakwas replied to Joker's sudden declaration. He looked at her confusedly. "Yes," she told him a small smile on her lips. "You said that out loud."

He only stared at her. "So what do we do now?" he asked after a moment.

"First," Ash said, hands fisted in her lap, "you take it back. Then you use the Omni-tool in your pocket to get us out of these cuffs."

Joker's head whipped around, green eyes blazing. "First," he retorted, "you prove to me that you didn't lie to me, _then_ I'll use the Omni-tool in my pocket to get us out of these cuffs."

"That's not helping," Dr. Chakwas scolded. "Jeff, if you have a way out, kindly use it."

"Hopefully, when they passed their scanners, they didn't detect it and short it out," Joker mumbled, ire gone as suddenly as it came. He shifted, sitting on his knees.

"What model is it?" Kelly asked, her attention piqued.

"It won't blow the microcomputers in their weapons, but it'll fry the circuits on these cuffs," he told her, trying to reach into his pocket but failing because of said cuffs. "_If_ it still works. Doll, the chip's in my back pocket. You'll have to get it."

If Ash could have crossed her arms, she would have. "I'm not touching your ass." It was stupid to protest, especially under the circumstances, but damn it! That remark deserved an apology. She knew he would be upset when he found out the truth. She never expected to feel this way or … _No, no. Hormones_. It was just hormones. There were no _feelings_ involved. _Anywhere._

She reached into his pocket, felt her face heat up a bit when she had to feel around for the chip. Her face was on fire by the time she'd pulled the chip out since she'd accidently activated the damn thing in his pocket. The holographic interface made his pocket glow.

"Still works," she declared.

"Thanks for that," he grumbled.

"You try digging in a pocket with cuffs on," she retorted.

He turned and looked at her, incredulous. He held up his bound hands, shook them at her. "I _did_."

* * *

_Uh, filler? Since Bioware's using the idea of a trial for the next installment of ME, the trial (of sorts) I had planned for this probably will not make an appearance…_


	14. Fools Rush In

**Fools Rush In**

* * *

**Urdnot Lazlo's Fishdog Shack, Milgrom, Bekenstein, Boltzmann System  
****December 26, 2183**

* * *

Kibra Hamid stared at her food, one hand over her ear as she listened to The Illusive Man's instructions. "And Dr. Boaz?" she questioned.

"I have no further Intel on the doctor," the head of Cerberus told her. "Retrieve Moreau, Chambers, Chakwas and Dr. Boaz's medical notes. If you find Dr. Boaz, bring him along. Williams' granddaughter could also be an asset. Keep your cover. She knows nothing."

"We're on our way." Hamid's omni-tool lit up as she received the co-ordinates to the Alliance safe house. Bekenstein's global positioning system gave her map three kilometers away. She looked at her compatriots, an ex-Alliance engineer named Donnelly and an ex-Alliance navigator named Patel. Hamid shook her head mentally. This mission called for Marines. Not Navy brats. Donnelly had only just joined Cerberus in November.

"Trouble?" Donnelly asked as he took a bite of … of whatever the hell it was he was eating. Haggis? Stuff should be outlawed, Hamid thought. It probably wasn't even made from vat-grown. It was probably the real deal – or varren. They were in a restaurant that specialized in the animals, after all.

"Yes," she told him. "I'll tell you on the way. Let's go."

Kenneth Donnelly looked down at his meal with a frown and sighed. "Always when I'm eating."

Patel shook her head as they stood and made for the exit. "Damn, Gabby was right about you, Kenny. You think with your mouth and your stomach."

* * *

**Safe house, [Co-ordinates deleted], Bekenstein, Boltzmann System  
****December 26, 2183**

* * *

"Damn it."

Joker knew as he watched Ashley hack into the binding cuffs' microcomputer that this was a Bad Idea. When she started cursing and the _beeps_ turned to _boops_, he classified it as a Very Bad Idea. The final _boop_ before the system locked her out sounded like the computer blew a raspberry at them. Shock of shocks, she and Joker were still in cuffs and now anything less than omni-gel or a good pry bar wasn't going to help them.

"Nice."

Ashley huffed and looked up at him. "I'm not a hacker," she offered weakly, powered down the omni-tool.

"Noted."

Omni-tools required two hands to operate efficiently. One to work the inner system controls, the other to scroll through windows and make commands. Ashley, with Dr. Chakwas help, had removed Kelly and the doctor's cuffs. When Kelly started coughing up… _green shit_, Joker got the hell away from her, retreating to the kitchenette of the small safe house.

Kelly was pale – sickly pale. Dr. Chakwas examined the therapist using the instruments in the case that the Blue Suns found near Dr. Boaz body.

Joker looked around the little space for something – _anything_ – to pry the binding cuffs off to take his mind off Kelly while Ashley leaned against the opposite counter.

"What fab-programs does that thing have?" he asked opening a drawer. Plastic flatware greeted him.

"Um." Ashley turned the omni-tool back and opened a window. Then another.

Joker bit back a groan. He wanted to throttle her. Weren't Marines supposed to know these things? _MaRINEs: Muscles are Required, Intelligence Not Essential._

"Let me get yours off first," she had said.

And he had trusted her.

_Again._

Just like that.

Angered with himself just as much as with her, he whirled around and snatched the tool out of her hands, the cuffs clicking together briefly. The yellow glow went dead when it lost the connection to her skin. He stood there seething at her, green eyes alight.

"I had the screen up," she told him. Her eyes flashed with irritation.

Oh, no! She was not allowed to be angry. Hell no! She had no right. It was _his_ turn to be angry.

Angry for trusting her.

Angry for believing in her.

Angry for _letting her in._ She got under his skin like noone else.

_Bitch._

"I'll do it," he told her, his tone clipped.

"Omni-gel will –"

He brandished a plastic spoon from the flatware drawer. "We 'gel this? _Plastic_?" He snapped it. Yep. Just as he suspected: _Made in China_. "Awesome idea. Hey, let's just walk on out of here while we're at it. Tell 'em we're tired of playing and we're taking our toys with us."

He tossed the broken parts on the counter and rifled through more drawers looking for something that would make stronger 'gel. The cuffs were chafing his wrists. He wanted out of them.

"I never asked for this," he stated.

"Joker."

There had to be something here. Anything. The second drawer was empty.

"Joker."

Third drawer had… yarn? In a kitchen?

"Mom would hit the ceiling," he said. The knitting needles were old-fashioned. Earth-made. Wood. You couldn't make omni-gel out of wood. Wood didn't melt; it burned.

"Joker."

He braced his bound hands on the counter. "Doll, go help Dr. Chakwas." _Stay the hell away from me._ He wasn't going to look at Ash. He tried to stare a hole in the overhead cabinet. Then he realized that he was looking right at the cabinet's handles and forgot all about being mad. They were made from metal and ceramic.

Powering up the omni-tool, he used the fabber's electromagnetic end to unscrew the screws holding the handles in place.

Ash's hand was warm on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she told him quietly.

He let out a breath, didn't face her. "How does that help anything, Williams?" His tone was harsher than he intended. She took her hand away and coldness filled the void left.

"Look," he said after a moment. He turned to face her. She was in his personal space. It felt strange that she was so close but gave off no body heat because of the ballistic-cloth body suit under her plum-colored duster. His eyes momentarily dropped to her lips and he swallowed. "Look," he started again, "we're up to our eyeballs in shit right now. Virus Queen –" He indicated Kelly lying prone on the divan in the other room with a nod– "is getting us all sick. The Shadow Broker wants to dissect her. I can barely walk. Cerberus wants us dead. And there are mercs with guns outside."

Ashley's eyebrows dipped into a frown.

"And you lied to me," he added wanting to push her away. She didn't step back but she looked away.

"I wasn't in a position where I could."

"Bullshit."

She looked him in the eyes. "I should have told you," she acknowledged. "I didn't. I was doing my job. I'm not going apologize for doing my job."

* * *

Ashley swallowed the lump in her throat. Joker was never going to forgive her. His next words confirmed it.

"Your job include pretending to be my friend, Doll?"

Her heart plummeted. _Doll_ was usually said as pet name. It came out a slur.

She closed her eyes. "I was ordered to keep you safe, Moreau."

He snorted. "Great job."

That brought Ashley up short. She glared at him, eyes narrowed to slits.

"What was I supposed to do? Shout to the world, 'Hey! Guess what? The _Normandy_'s gone. Commander Shepard's dead. The crew's dead. Reapers are going to kill all organic life in the galaxy. Oh, by the way, Joker's wanted by Cerberus. I'm here protecting his ass while he recuperates instead of doing something about the Reapers!'" By the time she'd finished, she was in his face and shouting. She turned away, but not without a parting barb in a sickly sweet, patronizing tone. "And Joker, if you didn't want to get sick, then you really should have stayed the hell away from her. Hendricks is dead."

Ashley instantly regretted her words at the look of pained-shock on Joker's face. He spun around, threw the flatware at the wall and grasped the counter hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

"Get the fuck away from me," he whispered when she touched his arm in apology.

She obeyed, heart in her throat.


End file.
